Gay Erotic Stories

In the Beginning Rich On my 24th birthday, I moved to San Francisco to pursue a career passion as a personal trainer. When the professional opportunity presented itself I jumped on it recognizing that the city would present a much better environment for my gay lifestyle to flourish. But I never expected the life-transforming event that began at the Marina green just days after I arrived. Scott approached as I stretched my muscles in preparation for a run to the Golden Gate Bridge. He settled a few feet away to complete his own stretching routine, acknowledging my presence with a friendly greeting. I returned the greeting and I think he muttered something about the good weather we were having. Since the day was unusually hot for San Francisco, Scott wore nothing but running shorts allowing my curious eyes to conduct a full examination of his body. I guessed he was about my age, and we shared many physical attributes. Like me, his waist was a lean 30 inches, his neck size large, 16 ½ or 17, and his chest size a good 44. He was, however, taller by 2 inches at 6 foot, 20 pounds heavier at some 195 pounds, and absolutely ripped with muscles everywhere. His muscle mass was not the type grown through weightlifting, but strictly through sports and calisthenics. He had light brown hair, cut short, big hairy legs, perfectly chiseled torso and face, and broad powerful shoulders. He had a stunningly attractive face. But my attention focused on two of his most salient features. He had a breathtakingly lush hair trail that started at a point just above his belly button, spreading in both directions and growing tantalizingly denser as it disappeared into his running shorts, forming a powerfully suggestive triangle of fuzz. As well, a pair of fabulous biceps popped into the most taut and delightful mounds of flesh with every movement of his arms. As I absorbed every detail of his body straight into my sizzling crotch, he introduced himself as Scott, standing and moving closer to shake my hand. “I’m Rich,” I said with a smile and shook his hand. His hand was athletic, large and firm. He asked if he could run with me because he found running alone monotonous. I said yes and my life would change forever. Continuing our stretch routine, we exchanged the requisite summary of our backgrounds. I had grown up in Pennsylvania, attending college in New Jersey as the proverbial scholar-athlete. I graduated with a 4.0 average, was an All-American at the javelin and high hurdles, and was an All-East football running back and played basketball and tennis in my spare time. I was in the personal training business mostly the result of my own fascination with physical fitness. Scott had grown up in Seattle and had moved to California to attend UCLA. As if I didn’t know, he was a full-time athlete, playing safety on the football team, wrestling in the class below heavyweight, playing second base, and captaining both the football and baseball teams during his senior year. He succeeded academically achieving a 3.8 average. He still played rugby to stay in shape. After college he modeled a little but started a landscaping business that had grown large enough to occupy most of his time now. Introductions out of the way, we continued with our stretching before setting out for the bridge. Scott I go running at the Marina because there is always, I mean always, some guy worth looking at. In the four years I had carried out this routine, however, I’d had little lasting success. Most of the guys I’d met had turned out to be straight and the few that had not were either losers or not my type. Lately all I would see were familiar faces. But today as I got to the field I spotted this fresh hunk that was definitely new to this scene. He had a beautiful head of dark blonde hair, I’d say he was 5’ 10” or 5’ 11”, 180 pounds, and, best of all, was incredibly well put together. He had a lean but strong body, covered with just the right amount of body hair, bulging with impeccable muscle and vascular definition, and glowing with a traffic-stopping boyish face with large deep blue eyes and a solid square jaw. As I approached, a pair of nipples whose tips pressed hard on his tee shirt saluted me, immodestly guarding a pair of hefty pectoral mounds. As I inwardly worshipped his physical features I outwardly probed into his life and personality, delighted to discover that this man was far more than a piece of thrilling flesh. My crotch had turned decidedly restless as we began our run to the bridge, and, stimulated by our conversation, blood flooded into the burning tissue inside my pole filling it at least halfway to full erection by the end of our run. As we approached the starting point, I seriously entertained thoughts of being able to love this man and his body. I fantasized about the ticklish pleasure of his leg hairs sweeping through my smooth chest as my hands caressed his brawny biceps and forearms. My runaway drill betrayed my feelings as it climbed up the sides of my briefs unrestricted by an athletic supporter. I sincerely hoped Rich had not noticed, but most of all, I hoped this adventure would not end as so many others had. The overwhelming probability was that he was not gay, even though I thought his vein appeared to have grown during the course of our run. The thought gave me some encouragement to suggest we get together the following day for another run. Rich Part of Scott’s warm-up routine included running in place and today he of course performed it right in front of me. His running shorts, loose at the waistline probably the result of worn-out elastic, kept descending as he ran in place, exposing a larger and progressively denser hair patch coming excruciatingly close to pubic heaven. Equally spellbinding, his substantial, and growing, frontal bulge bounced like a woman’s breast with every step he took. My pole stirred to life watching the whopping sack bopping around like a wild animal adorned by a halo of thickening near-pubic hair. As he led the way to the running path, I followed with my eyes fixed on his butt. Scott’s lightweight nylon shorts revealed a flirting contour of two voluptuous ass cheeks reminiscent of two small watermelons. The flimsiness of the short material could not conceal the powerful movement of the buttocks as they extended and contracted with each step. Each contraction of the luscious mounds, in turn, released more blood into my horny barrel in perfect lockstep. But it was the action in the front of Scott’s shorts as he ran that caused my groin to truly burst into flames. The bouncing continued, of course, but by the time we arrived at the starting point of our run, Scott’s love tool stretched the short material noticeably, displaying an understated but definitive cylindrical contour of his at least half-filled rod. The perfect view of his near solid drum climbing up the side of his shorts lit a fire in my own poker. Overwhelmed by desire, I grew sufficiently dazed and confused that Scott asked if I was okay. This guy had everything, I thought: A great body, a life of achievement and economic success, an easygoing and friendly disposition, and a captivating personality. I had to remind myself that not every single man in San Francisco was gay in order to cool the heat radiating from my groin. Since I was not terribly successful at controlling the swelling, I was glad that my athletic jock would partner with me in maintaining our little secret. As I walked up the hill to my apartment, all I could think about was “what a piece of ass.” My jockstrap incarcerated my engorged dick like a rabid dog and it hurt. Masochistically I replayed in my mind the causes of my predicament: the descending shorts, the bouncing hose bag, the gigantic buttocks, the quadriceps muscles in Scott’s thighs pressing on his skin with extravagant definition with every step he took. I kept readjusting my jockstrap to try to give my hyper-inflated shaft more room as I replayed these scenes, but neither the stretch fabric of my jock or my pulsating cock would surrender to the pressure of the other. Additional images of Scott’s legs and arms covered with an exhilarating coating of thin light brown hair ran through my dazed mind. And his gigantic biceps; I could live a full life with nothing else to my name. My mind bounced from one object of desire to another aimlessly, and with each random fantasy my groin pumped fluid through my towering tool. I entered my apartment and ripped out my clothing to relieve the pain. My stiff tool popped out spraying pre-cum profusely all over the floor. Since I was a young guy I almost produced more of that clear nectar than I produced piss, clearly an anatomical oddity, but one I cherished. Aside from orgasm, there is nothing more sexually pleasurable than the feeling of your pelvic muscles contracting to expel this divine liquid. I took a steamy shower. That was a mistake. I emerged from the shower so fucking horny that my crazed dick bounced madly, leaving a trail of pre-ejaculate everywhere I went. I had the ability, which I never exercised voluntarily, to reach a climax without any physical stimulation besides the involuntary contraction of my pelvic muscles. It happened at times such as this one, when my mind was so mesmerized by an object or objects of desire that my groin provided itself with all the stimulation it needed to climax. Attempting to catch up to my hyperactive pelvic muscles, I rushed to my bed and stroked my shaft, normally registering a provocative 7 inches when engorged but probably packing a greater punch today. I hastily fantasized about burying my tool between Scott’s biceps and torso and fucking his armpit. I felt the crushing force of Scott’s mighty muscle mass and the scintillating coarseness of his pit hair on my burning dick-head. Within seconds, gasping desperately for air, my nuts burst into a torrent of cum that splattered all over the wall behind my bed. My body stiffened everywhere as I stroked and squeezed my mushroom until every drop of love juice had ejected from my monument. Back East, I had been mostly with women. There were few gay men where I lived. Women flocked to me since high school, as I developed a reputation for not only having exquisite equipment, but also for tireless and continuous sex. I would spend half the night screwing these women and while they would go home in a daze after I was done with them, I had never achieved complete satisfaction for myself, knowing from my early years that men were my bag. When the San Francisco opportunity came, I could definitely see more advantages to living in San Francisco than just career advantages. Unable to control my lustful wandering, I lay awake all night, masturbating about a half dozen times and falling asleep as the sun came up, still hard. I slept until noon and was startled out of bed by the thought that I could have slept through my date. As I put on my running gear, I had to ditch the jockstrap because my rock-hard tool simply would not fit. Scott By the time I reached my house west of the Presidio overlooking the Pacific Ocean, my pole was fully engorged and my dick-head pulsated on the elastic begging to be released from its cage. I sat on the couch yearning for Rich to walk in the door and plant his horny lips on every inch of my hot flesh. With my eyes closed tightly, I imagined his leg hairs brushing lightly on my chest. The tickling sensation on my tits electrified my own body hair. My mind, drunk with desire, hallucinated without restraint. My hands stroked Rich’s wet dick. His mouth sucked my nipples, now hardened from the touch of my own fingers. My fingers ran excitedly through his head of hair that rested lovingly on my chest. His starving tongue descended to wet my pubic region. I stretched to caress his solid buttocks with my scorching hands. His nose inhaled the pungent odor of my dense forest of pubic hair. As his hips mounted my face, my tongue stroked his lush perineum, detonating a series of unrestrained pelvic thrusts. His mouth devoured my sweltering balls. My mouth devoured his sweltering balls. His lips squeezed my bursting dick-head. My lips squeezed his bursting dick-head. My hips began to rock violently and my shaft pumped wildly into the grip of my waiting hand, as pre-cum gushed from my wide open dick hole. I beat my desperate meat to an explosive orgasm, muscle spasms taking over my entire body. I expelled gobs of semen high in the air in every direction while I gasped desperately for air. I stepped out of my spell to realize Rich was not there. My sweat and my semen, scattered all over the couch and even my coffee table, filled my living room with the gratifying smell of sex. My dick remained rigid, transfixed on this hunk of flesh called Rich, erupting four more times throughout the evening before surrendering to physical exhaustion. Since I was 16 years old, an ability to come repeatedly has been my joy and my burden: my joy for obvious reasons; my burden because my body required more sex than I could find partners for. Tonight was the perfect example. I woke up at 8 the next day and our date wasn’t until 1. I was hard all morning, excitedly anticipating my second date. I showed up at the Marina green at 5 till 1 in a tank top and nylon shorts. Rich wasn’t there yet. Ten minutes later, as I was beginning to bum that this guy might not show, a fist hit the very top of my buttocks. I turned to find Rich shirtless and donning smaller and thinner shorts than the previous day, sporting a definitive cylindrical silhouette pressing against the fabric of his running shorts. “Sorry, man, I overslept,” he said, putting one arm on my shoulder and the other squarely on my biceps and giving both a playful squeeze that seemed to linger just a tad too much. While I faked looking away from his bulging shorts, he surely noticed my spying. But I felt less inhibited about my sexual demonstrations with the realization that something was brewing when this man had dressed down so significantly from the previous day, not to mention that something was definitely cooking inside his shorts. Plus, punching my ass and putting his hands on me were a poor disguise for a definitive attempt at "grabbing a squeeze." I felt so certain of this man’s sexual preference that I allowed my dick to bop a few times such that he too would know. Despite the sexual sparring, I remained determined not to jump on Rich’s bones at the first opportunity. No, I would court traditionally. I would get to know him, I would allow myself to fall in love with the man as well as the body, and I would wait however long to ensure that a relationship would be profound and lasting if it started at all. Sex would not be the object but the consummation of this relationship. As I surveyed this Herculean specimen, today half-naked, it became clear that my self-imposed task would not be easy. After our run we stayed at the Marina talking all afternoon. This guy had brains, a captivating smile, an engaging personality, and a hard-on all afternoon. I was equally stiff. We talked, we joked, and at times we got playful, getting a biceps grab here and a nipple pinch there. Every time I touched any part of this man, no matter how innocently, I got a low voltage shock up my spine. I felt comfortable and content. Unable to bear the thought of separating, I suggested dinner. We both went home to shower, and when I arrived to pick him up at his apartment, he was still in his underwear and said he’d be but a minute. He was still hard. Of course so was I, but at least I had my pants on. I stayed faithful to my courtship commitment and didn’t even think of making any moves. Dinner and drinks afterward were captivating and electric. This afternoon I had felt comfortable and content. Tonight I felt close. Afterwards, I dropped Rich at his place, did not invite myself in, and went to my place for another night of continuous solitary sex. On Monday, I was installing an important large landscaping project but my foreman bore the brunt of the work, as my mind was elsewhere. I called Rich at the gym and invited him to dinner again. He agreed though he wasn’t sure of the time because he was negotiating to buy the gym with a partner and had meetings in the afternoon. Since he was late leaving work, we met at the restaurant. He was still bulging, as was I, and I wondered if he had been stiff all day, as I had been. I was particularly elated tonight by the shoulder high sleeves on his shirt that presented his biceps proudly, today pumped more than usual, probably from a heavy workout or gym class. Sensing my eyes fastened on his arms, he moved them constantly, teasing me fiendishly with every contraction and extension of his muscles. My dick leaked clear pre-cum through dinner as I feasted on those delicious mounds of hot flesh. I was slightly embarrassed when I rose from my chair revealing a pool of wetness in my pants. He noticed, no doubt. As he sat on the passenger seat, his boner extended practically to the outer edge of his leg. This night I would fancy sitting on that majestic tower. I spent the entire week with Rich except for work and “sleep,” getting in a couple of Golden Gate runs, a Giants game, dinner every night, and, separately, dozens of orgasms in the solitary confinement of my bedroom triggered by my fascination for this hunk. By the end of the week, closeness had transformed into passion, the kind of passion that can only be a product or consequence of unconditional love. Rich Sunday was splendid. The tank top covered the hair triangle that had totally enthralled me on Saturday, forcing me to feast my probing eyes and agitated mind on the most sensational set of biceps I had ever seen. But more importantly, on this day Scott confirmed his sexual leanings and removed the most meaningful obstacle to this relationship. He revealed his feelings subtly but clearly. He feasted on my erection as I arrived. And, as if wanting to ensure that no part of the message would be lost in the subtlety of the situation, he flexed his rod to announce clearly that his restless eyes liked what they saw. We spent Sunday and the whole week together, our dicks busting out of our pants every minute we spent together. In my case, the bulge did not wane even when we were apart. By Tuesday I had decided this could be my life partner and by Friday this love of my life had made me come, without even being present, more than any one person had made me come physically being present. If this wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was. I determined that no further courtship was necessary. There was nothing more to accomplish by it. On Friday morning, after a restless night of solitary sex, I would make my move. I called Scott’s cell phone and asked him to dinner at my place. I think I heard his heart beating on the phone; I know I heard his breathing accelerate and his voice shake. Scott Rich’s call confirmed that we had both reached our restraint limit. The time had come to consummate our relationship. After work, I worked out to pump my muscles for the occasion, even doing several biceps curl repetitions given Rich’s obvious attraction to that particular part of my anatomy. After a long cold shower, I slipped into a pair of mesh thongs with a pouch that raised my nut sack to create a beastly protuberance in my pants. I covered my jewels with light poplin pants that were not too tight, which allowed the fabric to sit lightly on the package making it look even bigger. I wore the waist low, just slightly above the pouch. I finished the ensemble with a sleeveless shirt that fell to just above my belt. With my slightest movement, my lover would be able to feast on the hair patch that he has admired from a distance so incessantly throughout the week. And of course, my biceps would be in full view for whatever length of time is devoted to small talk and foreplay. After that, he could feast on anything and everything to his heart’s contentment. In the Hunt Scott Rich opened the door and his initial friendly smile transformed into startled seriousness as he lustfully examined me from top to bottom, lingering at the waistline. His Adam’s apple moved violently as he gulped a couple of times. The initial reaction aroused me, but not nearly as much as his foxy outfit, which was easily hotter than mine was. The jeans were cut off to maybe a 2-inch inseam baring his sensational brawny quadriceps beautifully coated with golden curls. The waist was at least 2 inches too big, the pants held up by his bulging crotch. His white briefs were visible from top. His tee shirt fit tightly on his chest and shoulders and was cut off several inches above his navel, framing a provocative tract of light brown fuzz that thickened as it disappeared into his briefs. The trail drew my eyes to a hefty mountain of flesh sadistically bound into a rounded knoll by the thick denim material. While thin clothes work best for exposing detail of what lived inside, nothing outdistances denim for a display of the raw and vicious power of a red-hot cock throbbing inside with unrestrained desire. My heartbeat accelerated like a racecar emerging from a turn in the track, and my boner pressed on my pockets trying to escape the scorching fire in my groin. Rich extended his hand to shake mine. I shut the door and extended my right hand past his hand, and onto his lower back exactly where his upper gluteus muscles disappeared into his body. My left hand followed coming to rest on the opposite side. My lips engulfed his as our tongues hungrily blasted into each other’s mouths desperate to discover every flaming nook within. Rich pulled my body tightly onto his by stroking my biceps and shoulders firmly with his strong athletic hands. My head rotated vigorously on his lips allowing my lips to suck his mouth from every angle. Rich’s thirsty tongue probed anxiously as he strengthened his grip on my arms as if trying to rip the flexing muscle from my skin. Unwilling to come up for air, we breathed rapidly through our noses filling the room with a thunderous cacophony of sound. Our hips attached to each other rubbing our pricks into euphoric arousal. My mouth ached for more, and I hungrily clasped his luscious jaw and sucked insanely on the close-shaven heavy beard. As I sucked on his chin like a hungry baby, Rich released a resonant groan from deep within his gut. I kissed his neck, caressing his manly beard with my lips and tongue, his head stretching back and pressing on his shoulders in total exhilaration. Our torrid embrace persisted for more than 15 minutes, not moving an inch from the place where it began, right at the door. After our mouths separated, as if energized by freer flow of oxygen into his lungs, Rich grabbed my ass pulling my rigid tower closer and continuing to pump his hips into mine. I balanced myself on his powerful arms stroking his flexing triceps, myself releasing guttural cries of raw pleasure. We looked into our gladdened hearts through our adoring eyes, savoring this moment of elated arousal. Rich was sufficiently agitated that he couldn’t find meaningful vocabulary to express his feeling, muttering instead a simple “Wow”. Playfully I responded, “Wow yourself.” With his face absolutely radiant, Rich invited me in for a drink and some “sustenance,” which we both knew we would need badly this particular evening. My nerves had not allowed me to absorb the apartment’s features earlier in the week. His living room had a huge picture window almost to the floor, displaying a panoramic view of the bay, this night appropriately bright and free from our famous fog, contributing to the serenely romantic atmosphere in the room. The sitting room by the window seemed peaceful with the glittering lights across the bay and in the sky. I saw a strange-looking chair tucked in the corner by the window. It was made of a firm rubber-like composite, the back reclining at a 30-degree angle, and with a narrow seat defined by the space between the back and a foot-high camelback hump that continued to the floor opposite the seat. A footrest extended out the sides of the chair, and a headrest protruded forward by a foot. “What a great apartment!” I said as I examined the chair. “This is kind of an unusual chair, what’s it for?” He explained that it was very relaxing to lie with your legs slightly elevated and enjoy the view of the bay and the stars, adding, with a devilish wink, that it was also great for sex. He explained that the footrest and headrest were helpful to gain leverage and balance when two bodies mounted the instrument. I realized that this smart handsome hunk was definitely breathing, and I had my doubts that I would make it through dinner without detonating the explosives in my pants. Rich grabbed a couple of cold ones and we sat on the couch to take in the view and cool our throats. Within minutes our mouths met again to rekindle the fire; I have never been this horny in my life. I popped a raging hard-on as my fingers penetrated into Rich’s beautiful wavy blonde hair while my tongue licked every spot on his face, mouth and neck. Rich concentrated his hands first on my biceps, clearly his first love, later sliding down to my inner thighs. His body stiffened as my heavy breathing blew on his neck and his strong hands stroked my thighs. His hand’s provocative touch sent mighty chills up my spine as my dick begged me for escape from its confinement inside my pants. My mouth slid hungrily to his rock-hard belly and I gently pulled his hair with my lips causing him to significantly increase the intensity of stimulation to my quavering thighs. With each flirting pull on his stomach hair with my puckered lips, he expelled an exciting groan from his stomach. His moaning, in turn, incited a windstorm from my rapidly breathing nose that tickled his abdominal hair into even greater arousal. Rich My heart was racing on the sofa as this hot guy ran his hands and mouth through any body hair he could find. The tickling sensation energized by his hands sweeping through my body triggered reflex muscle contractions throughout my horny body. I was so hot I wasn’t sure I could get up from the sofa to finish cooking dinner. But I did. I could hear Scott’s deranged breathing following closely behind as I walked to the kitchen. As I began my cooking tasks, he grabbed my chest from behind pushing his groin into my ass, gently rocking his hips playfully. The substantial round bulge in his pants when he arrived had now grown into a gigantic cylindrical protuberance that extended up his hips and nearly ripped through his thin pants. He slipped his hands under my shirt, fondling my pectorals furiously; he focused on the nipples and they quickly hardened to catch up to my rigid prick. Simultaneously, Scott kissed my neck flickering his tongue and driving me wild with the hurricane-force wind generated by his furious breathing. Encouraged by my sobs of sheer joy he introduced his right hand into the top of my pants, my lover clearly aroused by my hair trail and searching for the main event the trail pointed to. His hands slipped into my underwear, and his fingers flirted with my bush, raking my curly pubes erotically with his nails. His hands came in contact with my shaft causing such an intense feeling of pleasure a small stream of pre-cum flowed from my exalted dick. I lifted his hands out of my love bush to finish cooking, but they sprang back to stroking my chest, pressing the balls of his fingers delightfully on my fully erect nipples. Hot as a pistol he whispered “Your tits drive me out of my bird.” My pre-cum stream intensified with that bit of dirty talk from this now seriously aroused hunk. The wetness would soon soak through my pants. When the food was done (actually, a little overdone, which you can understand), I slipped out of Scott’s clutch, struggling against his substantial resistance. We sat down to eat but his hunger clearly was not in his stomach. His first sentence announced that the wetness in my crotch was making him incredibly horny. I laughed; this guy was already in a rabid state when he rang the doorbell. He marveled at the presence of a wet spot on such thick denim material, still unfamiliar with my precocious fluid production talent. Scott’s chiseled body glowed in the candlelight and simply hypnotized my mind, sending shivers to my pelvic muscles, and energizing a continued release of pre-cum into my pants. Each time Scott would rest his elbows on the table, I couldn’t take my eyes off the massive mounds formed by his contracting biceps. As I looked down on my lap, the wet spot had grown to a 3-inch diameter. It looked like I had relieved myself in my pants, which I guess I had. I was decidedly on the verge of coming in my pants. After we finished dinner there was a little conversation, but very little. Conversation in such extreme state of arousal is futile and we both knew it. I was glad that we had spent a week getting to know each other before this moment. Now all I could think about was emptying my balls on this piece of ass. Scott insisted on cleaning up. I was so hungry for his body that I abruptly took off his shirt and caressed his big nipples from behind until they were rock-hard with the tips standing in attention a good quarter inch from the base. I teased with the balls of my fingers first, then with my nails, very lightly and tenderly, and later, when he was finished washing and had turned around, with my tongue. His groans gradually escalated as I stimulated his nipples with my fingers; when my tongue engulfed the fire brewing in his tits he began moaning like a wounded animal, shutting his eyes tightly and running his fingers through my head while he directed my head movement. The rigidity of his nipples to my touch further stimulated my drip and I whined overwhelmed by my second most favorite sexual sensation. After lighting his tits into a frenzied state, I lowered myself to the hairy midsection that, together with Scott’s arms, had first awakened my sexual yearning for this body while in the park by the Marina. I could finally immerse my lips in that beautiful hair trail that I had dreamed of and fantasized about for a whole week’s worth of sexual arousal and orgasmic satisfaction. My tempo picked up more than I would have liked, but I couldn’t help myself. I tasted every strand in the patch of near-pubic hair with my lips and with my tongue. I unbuttoned Scott’s pants, careful not to hurt his growing penis as I rolled down the zipper, exposing a mesh low cut thong that allowed full appreciation of the top third of his love bush while exposing the rest through the provocative veil of mesh. I gasped as I confronted a lush patch of pubic hair that protruded a good inch and a half or two inches from his pelvic bone and completely hid his skin. Some strands of pubic hair even stuck out through the mesh so erotically that I had to repress an orgasm, my dick growing and struggling inside the confinement of my pants, continuing to ooze pre-cum freely. Scott comforted my obviously delightful sexual anguish by tenderly running his fingers through my hair and tipping my chin upward to share with me a warm smile. I let his pants drop to the floor and buried my nose in the bush, fully absorbing the musty aroma that would henceforth become my most prized fragrance. The pungent smell made me squirm with pleasure as my hands explored and stimulated his flat stomach with six well-defined mounds of hard muscle. I lowered my face to the gigantic protuberance below the bush. As I fondled the whole love region with my face, Scott’s tender demeanor was replaced by newfound animal desire and he began to rock his hips ferociously his hands buried in my hair directing the action. I frantically jerked my face from side to side, lips and tongue all over this man’s love zone, pressing against the thickest pole I had ever felt and trying to synchronize my activity with Scott’s now violent and erratic pelvic movement. The wailing coming from above was my guide and motivation to continue and my own groans of intense pleasure contributed to a harmonious background melody for the sexual torrent set in motion. When detecting that Scott was getting overheated, I forced myself to rev down, tickling his stomach up to his tits with my nails while my tongue traveled up and down his inner thighs. Scott’s frantic screaming yielded to soft moans that made me so hot I thought I would explode myself. I rose and kissed Scott’s burning mouth, and sucked his square chin. As he firmly embraced my arms and shoulders, I worked my face into his armpit, licking his handsome patch of hair and swallowing the manly scent of his delicious hair. Scott urged me on by letting me know how good it felt. It wasn’t long until he was nearly driven to orgasm one more time, nearly taking me there too. Such was the magical spell of Scott’s body on me at this moment that I could have dumped my load without touching myself or without being touched. I jumped from one erogenous zone to another in order to extend our ecstasy as much as possible. Next I grabbed his incredibly athletic ass, fully exposed in his thongs, with both hands in a kneading embrace. “What an unbelievable ass,” I said to him. Despite his loud groans, I think he heard me because he flexed his buns hard. My own cries of utter happiness were competing to be heard above Scott’s as I feasted on his wonderfully hard cheeks, sitting like hams in my hands, and as his completely rigid prick pumped savagely against my own. But soon I knew he had heard me. “My ass is yours and anything else you want to eat; I love you, man, I love your mind and I love every inch of your body,” he said panting heavily before planting his mouth in mine again. “Let me check out your flexed biceps,” I asked abruptly, hoping to cool Scott down. As he flexed hard for me, I nearly lost my own load as I balanced myself on one of those gorgeous and well-defined arms that were thrust upon my adoring eyes. His biceps were perfectly defined and proportioned; when contracted, they looked like navel oranges protruding from a powerful elongated arm. They were at the same time completely natural and as hard as those on the most accomplished bodybuilder in the land. After composing myself, I began to caress them, suck them, and kiss them hungrily until I almost came again. My pre-cum was flowing so freely it almost fell like I was pissing. My wet spot now extended down my legs and it wasn’t worth measuring anymore. Scott I would have liked to strip this god deliciously slowly but I was way too sexually agitated for that. Rich’s shirt and pants went flying off in a blink. “Big, fucking dick, Rich.” Over 7 inches pressed against his short boxers, 2 inches in diameter and a mushroom head that busted even wider and made me shiver with pleasure. This colossal tool was clearly visible through the shorts, now completely soaked with Rich’s bountiful production of clear pre-cum love juice. Equally detectable below this mighty shaft was a great pair of nuts; above it a luscious patch of dark blonde pubic hair, soaking wet, trailing up to a suggestive hair trail, less copious than my own, but sweet nonetheless. I stopped a minute to tickle him up and down his torso up to his nipples with my nails. I had just learned from my man the deliriousness that this seemingly innocuous activity can cause and I needed to bring him the same pleasure it had brought me. He moaned with abandon as I had done minutes before. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed his underwear just above his bush and pulled down. They dropped to the floor with a thump, soaking wet. “That’s what I call a pre-cum load”, I said as I knew he had not had an orgasm even if his underwear looked as if he had. I immediately saw where all that pre-cum emanated from, big balls on this stud. His member stood in full attention slightly curved upward, reaching for his belly button. As I licked his balls and up and down the awesome shaft, without touching that heavenly head, the fluid just kept oozing without pause, the groaning intensified, and the hip movement became frantic. “Put it in your mouth, please,” Rich pleaded, and I pleased my newfound love. I took his head in my mouth and used my tongue to make circles around the tasty mushroom, occasionally squeezing it against the roof of my mouth or with my hands. His dick swelled and uncontrollably pulsated, dripping profusely. Twisting in ecstasy with his head thrown back in extreme arousal, he clutched my shoulders and neck and screamed at the top of his lungs. As I watched this love machine achieve complete sexual exhilaration, my own dick bulged potently in my shorts and squirted pre-cum like it never had before. I controlled Rich’s orgasm by alternating down to licking his shaft, balls and musty bush with occasional trips to his thighs, muscle-bound from a lifetime of jumping hurdles. Soon, nothing I did cooled Rich’s demented state. I rose, kissing him lightly and continuously in the mouth, and motioned him to the love chair. As he turned, I grabbed him from behind, fondled his tight ass and placed my fully engorged dick, now freed from its confinement, on his crack, sliding it up and down swimming in my own lubricant. This motion triggered an indescribably concentrated emotion but I cut it off when my lover and I both nearly shot our loads. Once he composed himself, Rich kept moving towards the chair. He sat down on the chair with his legs wide open, dick at full staff and jerking from side to side, arms behind his head, exhibiting his beautiful flexed biceps to me for the first time. I kicked off my thong and, using Rich’s strong arms to steady myself, I saddled his body and stood with my pole and hanging ball sack in front of his eyes. Rich went crazy, but retained enough composure to wonder out loud how I could physically carry such large balls around and to state matter-of-factly that the swollen bulb at the base of my drum is thicker than many dicks. With his commentary out of the way, Rich took my balls in his mouth one at a time and gave me the best sack suck of my life. I gripped onto Rich’s biceps firmly and threw my head back allowing myself full enjoyment of this moment of passion. Rich As I ferociously sucked on Scott’s gigantic balls, I thought we had to retain our loads until I could exercise the distinct privilege of tasting this love zone completely with my mind, with my eyes, with my mouth, with my nose, and with my touch. As Scott stood in front of me I got my first unrestricted view of the most magnificent garden in the universe. My main man’s pole is the most delectable animal part I have ever seen. The thick shaft, well over 2 inches in diameter and capped by an oversized crown reminiscent of a helmet too large for the head it sat on, bulged profusely at the base and jumped involuntarily in front of my spellbound eyes dropping clear love juice on my lips. It was adorned by the most erotic, the most sensual bush of pubic hair and was protected by the most enormous and the most colossal balls know to man. I started my tasting tour by softly running my tongue up and down the shaft, carefully avoiding touching the oversized helmet resplendent in its abundant pre-cum. My mouth lingered on the dramatically engorged bulb at the base that held this precious tower in an unbendable state of rigidity. As Scott’s hip drilled uncontrollably to nowhere, I steadied the dick head in my mouth, jerking his staff with my hand. His tool was so thick I could not take much more than its head in my mouth, and my hand struggled to get a good grip. I squeezed, I licked, and I teased as Scott furiously rocked his pelvis throwing my own head around in complete sexual agitation and confusion. As Scott’s balls rose to hug his shaft tightly, defying all laws of gravity and signaling near climax, I shifted my mouth and hands onto his inner thighs, and all the hair that radiated triumphantly from his love bush. As Scott’s balls descended I again hungrily swallowed the shaft, this time succeeding in taking in more than half of it. I squeezed so hard on his bulging head that Scott went into unrestrained motion that forced my mouth to let go. I wanted to suck this man dry, but our first time definitely called for simultaneous release. I motioned for Scott to get in position for humping my love zone from the hump in front of my hips. Both Scott’s and my own dick areas and stomachs were soaking with self-made lubrication and ready to accommodate the friction motion that would culminate in complete sexual fulfillment. I brought my hips forward and Scott rested his ass on the hump with his feet on the footrest, rubbing his own rigid tool lightly on mine while propping himself with his arms on either side of me. Scooping up my torso with his powerful arms, he lifted me toward him and planted his mouth in mine, hunting for every drop of sex that he could find anywhere in my longing body. I planted my hands on that unbelievable gluteus musculature, fully flexed, prominently rising from his lower back, and we humped slowly as we savored each other’s love through our mouths. We increased our thrusting tempo gradually; Scott’s mouth caressing my neck while my hands hungrily stroked his back and ass. Soon Scott dropped me on the seat and threw his head back in complete ecstasy, opening the opportunity for me to probe the fully flexed triceps as his arms extended at my side. As I fondled the massive muscle mass, my dick swelled to the greatest rigidity I had ever experienced, the stream of pre-cum now turned into a river of pleasure and my hips thrusting into Scott’s uncontrollably and instinctively. Moaning and screaming filled the room completely as we fucked each other unconditionally, the frenzied pleasure in my dick amplified by the sexual delight of a powerful embrace of this man’s steely arms. With every muscle in our muscular bodies fully tensed, sobbing with passion, we erupted in a long release of sexual tension that coated our dicks and our torsos with gobs and gobs of boiling semen. Scott collapsed on me, still pushing groans from his gut, and we embraced in a sweltering kiss of appreciation. Neither one of us had imagined that it would be this good. As we lay there gasping for breath, deliriously one flesh, there were loud bangs on the wall. It was 9 or 9:30 so it was unlikely the neighbors were asleep, but I guess we were loud enough to disrupt even television viewing. Scott said “let’s get out of here and go to my house. It looks like this was our first, and our last, fuck in your place. What you and I do to each other requires far-away neighbors.” To be continued.