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I’m on a cross-country driving trip with no particular itinerary or destination. One evening, I find myself spending the night in north Texas. I spy a neighborhood bar not far from my motel and decide to stop in for a beer or two and to get a feel for the place.
The bar is sparsely populated; a few guys playing pool, a group of middle-aged women is sharing a pitcher and laughing loudly at a table in the corner, and one man sitting alone at the bar, nursing a beer. He appears to be in his early thirties, dark hair, a four-day growth of beard, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He looks a little forlorn, like he was hoping to score some tail but definitely wasn’t into the women in the corner. Maybe he’d fucked them all already. Maybe they were too old for his taste, never mind the “cougar” thing (if it is still a thing).
I sit down a few stools away from the guy, who glances over and gives a slight nod. I order a draft. The bartender brings the mug, and I take a deep swig. The other guy didn’t appear to be interested in anything in the way of conversation. After a few minutes, I turn to him and say, “I gotta go take a piss. Could you watch my beer for me?” He shrugs and nods, but doesn’t say a word.
I find my way to the john. It’s a fairly small, run-down room but has what I need most: a urinal. It’s basically an open trough with ice to keep the piss smell under control. I’m emptying my bladder when the door opens behind me, and the guy from the bar walks up next to me. Before he’s even opened his fly to pull out his cock, I notice that he’s staring at my dick. I’ve got nothing impressive, particularly when soft, so I’m puzzled by this. He finally pulls out his dick, which is very nice: cut, good size, and with a notable amount of pubic hair sticking out of his fly. He doesn’t seem to have a lot of piss in him, just a dribble, so I figure he might be pee-shy, just like me. In fact, if I hadn’t already been pissing when he came in, I would have been completely frozen, with a full bladder and my dick in my hand, nothing coming out.
Just looking at his dick is getting me aroused, but since this is definitely not a gay bar, I shake the last drop of piss from my cock and stuff it back in my jeans. I notice that his dick has swollen a bit, and I could swear that he was stroking the underside of his dick ever so slightly. Not wanting to get beat up for hitting on a straight guy, I turn and leave without washing my hands.
As I walk back to my barstool, I can’t stop thinking about the other guy’s cock. I can feel my dick stiffen, and when I sit back down, I realize that my erection is obvious to anyone who might glance my way. I’m a little concerned because the pool players look like the sort that would beat the shit out of any “faggot” that had the nerve to come into their bar. I can smell my cock on my fingers as I sip my beer, and that makes matters worse. I’m contemplating leaving, when the other guy comes back from the bathroom. Instead of sitting on the same stool as he was before, he sits right next to me. There are a dozen empty stools, but he chooses that one.
“Hey,” he says. “You new in town?” “Just passing through,” I reply. “My wife’s waiting for me at the motel,” I lie. “I’m Dennis,” the guy says, extending his hand. “Jake,” I reply, and we exchange a firm but friendly handshake. His smile is intoxicating, particularly since surrounded by his dark stubble. I notice a nice bit of fur on his forearms and a tuft of chest hair poking out of his t-shirt.
“So, Jake, you like to get high?” Dennis asks. “Sure,” I reply. “Listen, I got some good stuff back at my place. It’s right around the corner. Do you wanna come over and have some?” My gaydar is pinging loudly, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just wishful thinking on my part. I decide to go for it. “Sounds great!” I say, mind racing a little. This could be a trap, but my stiff dick starts doing all the thinking for me. Dennis exudes masculinity. Clearly no deodorant on this one, just that musky smell of a day’s work.
I follow him out the door. His jeans hug his nice round buns, as if serving them up for my pleasure. We arrive at his place, on the first floor of a small apartment complex, a little run down but not seedy. Dennis opens the door to a nice, clean apartment, though clearly a bachelor pad: sparsely decorated, two-seater couch and recliner across the living room from the large TV, as if set up for watching a football game with one or two buddies. “Have a seat,” he says, motioning to the couch. “Can I get you another beer?” “Sure,” I reply.
“Do you need to call your wife?” he asks as he brings two bottles of beer from the kitchen. “Nah, she’ll be fine,” I say, not taking my eyes the stretched denim holding his cock and balls firmly in place. Dennis’ smile suggests that he knows that there’s no wife. I think to myself, “Well, Jake, you may end up in pieces in his freezer, but damn he’s sexy!”
Rather than sitting in the recliner, Dennis sits next to me on the couch, and I mean right up against malatya escort me. I can feel the warmth of his body and smell the intoxicating musk of his armpits. As we drink our beers, we make small talk. Dennis is divorced, twice. No kids (“Thank God!” he says). I reiterate that I’m just passing through town on a road trip with no particular destination. I don’t mention my fictitious wife, nor do I say that I’m driving to clear my mind after a particularly nasty breakup with an incredibly hot, but incredibly selfish boyfriend, and that I may never go back home.
Our bottles nearly empty, Dennis opens a drawer in the coffee table, and withdraws a ceramic pipe, lighter, and small box. He pinches some weed into the pipe and lights it, inhaling deeply. He hands me the pipe and I do the same. My lungs burn a little, but I also feel the rush of warm relaxation. For a change, I don’t cough while exhaling. Dennis sits down right next to me. We each take a few more hits off the pipe, and by that point, we are both grinning at each other like idiots. I put my hand on his thigh, which seems to startle him just a little. But he does not push my hand away.
“I’m straight,” he says, “but I really want to suck another guy’s cock.” “That’s cool,” I reply, trying to be noncommittal but my barely-suppressed pot-enhanced laughter gives me away. We both dissolve into giggles. “Shit, man, I knew you were a cocksucker the minute you walked in the bar,” Dennis says between outbursts of laughter. “Yeah, like you’ve got a wife! I got no problem with you being a faggot. My ex-brother-in-law is queer, that’s why he divorced my sister. Whatever floats your boat, that’s my motto.”
As the pot hits my system, I find Dennis getting sexier and sexier, especially now that my not-so-secret secret is out. I want to kiss him, long and deep, but know that kissing is a red line for a lot of straight guys. So I resist. Instead, I reach over and unbutton his fly, reach in, and pull out his semi-flaccid dick. “Commando, and in 501s!” I exclaim. Just the way so many of my fellow gay men dress for a night out, all the way back to when I was an insecure urban queer kid. He doesn’t say a word. His cock feels warm and heavy in my hand. I’ve seen a lot of cocks in my life, and this one is a fine example. Prominent veins, velvety head with a pronounced ridge. And like the rest of him, it smells like a real man: musky with a faint hint of piss. With my finger, I touch the tip to get the drop of precum that appears. It is as sweet as honey.
Before I can take his cock in my mouth, he interrupts me. “I want to suck your dick, right now,” Dennis says, rising to his feet and pulling me to mine. As his jeans slip to the floor, he reaches for my pants, unbuttons them, and lets them drop to the floor; I’m commando just like him. He pulls my t-shirt over my head, but his intentions are clear as he sinks to his knees and starts nuzzling my stiffening dick. He inhales deeply, which seems to turn him on. He very tentatively takes the head of my cock into his mouth, as if uncertain what to do. I feel his tongue circling the head, stopping to probe my piss slit gently. His mouth is warm and wet on my cock; he instinctively knows the importance of using plenty of spit. Gradually he takes more and more of my dick into his mouth until he reaches the hilt; I can feel the back of his throat against the head of my cock. He does his best not to gag. I relish the sight of his stubbly face accommodating my now-hard dick. He is really getting into it, and for a novice, his technique is excellent. When I feel the very beginnings of an orgasm rising in my gut, I withdraw my cock. “I can usually get off only once these days,” I explain. “I don’t want to cum yet. It’s my turn to get you naked.”
I remove what remains Dennis’ clothes, revealing his very fit body, with a nice distribution of hair on his chest, arms, and belly. His pubic hair is magnificent, full and thick. I raise his arm revealing a his hairy armpit, exuding an intoxicating male musk. I was right, no deodorant here! Without a pause, I bury my nose in it, inhaling the smell to the point of feeling light-headed. Once again, Dennis seems startled, like he’d never thought of having someone do this to him. But he seems to like it. As I lick his hairy armpit, I can feel the head of his cock pressing against my hip, leaving a smear of precum on my upper thigh. I withdraw my face from his armpit, leaving it soaked with my spit.
I crave his cock, any way he wants to give it to me: mouth, ass, hand…I just have to have it. I pull him down to the floor, he on his back and me on my stomach, head positioned between his legs. His dick is stiff but his balls still hang loose in their hairy sack. In fact, they nearly touch the floor, obscuring his crotch and asshole. I desperately want to lift his sack up and sniff, lick, and probe what I suspect is a nice furry asshole. And again, territory I crave but know would most likely be off-limits for malatya escort bayan a straight guy. Oh, if only I could show him the indescribable feeling of getting rimmed. Maybe next time. Hell, maybe later tonight!
Opening my throat, I take his dick into my mouth all the way to the hilt. My nose is buried in his thick pubic hair, pungent with all of the manly smells it tends to trap. I feel the head of his cock at the back of my throat, threatening to choke me as the fat head completely blocks my airway. I take his balls in my hand and gently massage them, marveling at their resemblance to eggs in size and firmness. I hear him groan loudly.
I continue to suck his cock, using all the techniques I’ve learned over the past thirty years. After a few minutes, he stops me. “I want to suck your dick,” Dennis repeats, withdrawing his swollen member from my mouth. He pushes me onto my back and goes to work, pulling my legs apart so that his broad shoulders support my thighs. He grabs my cock and balls in one hand as he sucks, slowly and deliberately and, again, very effectively, particularly for someone with limited experience. I’m moaning involuntarily. I give a small start when I feel his free hand brush against my asshole. For a moment I think that my ultimate dream might come true, that Dennis would eat my ass until it was so slick that his big cock would slide right in. I would feel him banging against my prostate, causing me to cry out so loudly that I’d wake the neighbors.
But I don’t think that fucking me is on Dennis’ agenda tonight; as he said, he just wants to suck dick. And so he does.
Once again I feel the orgasm rising in me. I pull my dick from his mouth and get up on my knees, stroking my cock with deliberate effort. He does the same. His grunts, moans, and facial expression tell me that he is approaching orgasm ahead of me, so I lean forward to receive his load in my mouth. I get to watch him jack his dick up close, I can see it swell and his legs quiver as he reaches the point of no return. His moans grow louder and louder as his balls pull up to his body. With a shouted “oh fuck!” he comes, ropes of semen shooting from his cock and splashing all over my face. There is a lot of it. And it is warm and thick.
As is so often the case, watching a guy cum brings be closer to my own orgasm, and I can tell it’s going to be big. I’m not going to hold back. Dennis lies on his back in front of me, face inches from my cock. He is panting from his own climax, his cock slick and starting to soften ever so slightly. “Fuck, man, I’m going to blow soon,” I say, and the dirty talk that sometimes accompanies the final moments before I come starts pouring out of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m going to soak you with my spunk. I’m going to drown your hairy ass. Yeah, stroke that big fucking cock for me. Damn, man, I want to eat your ass, stick my face in that hairy crack and inhale you. I’m going to shoot a load of cum in that crack so that it runs down to the floor, then I’m going to make you lick it up. You’re going to be a complete fucking cum pig before I’m done with you.”
And with that, I come, shooting my spunk all over Dennis’ face, a good chunk going into his mouth. Tentatively at first, and then with gusto, he takes my cock back into his mouth and licks it as clean as he can. My dick is so sensitive at that moment that I almost can’t stand it. The feeling is so intense that I think I may cum again. But that’s a fleeting sensation, and soon I feel my body start to relax, my head spinning, my body still twitching, my cock shrinking back to its sleepy state.
Exhausted, I sink to the floor, panting. After a few minutes, we start to giggle again. “Fuck, man, that was awesome,” I say, throwing my arm over his sweaty, furry chest, pulling his shoulder into my armpit. Again, I feel him flinch, then he settles in, letting me hold him close as we doze in post-orgasmic bliss.
I awake some time later. I’m not sure how long I’ve slept; probably about fifteen minutes. Dennis is still nestled in my armpit, his breathing deep and steady. His skin glistens with sweat from our earlier fun. There are several globs of drying cum in his beard stubble and on his furry chest. His cock remains somewhat engorged, if spent; and it looks wet from my spit.
Dennis stirs out of his light slumber. He seems somewhat confused, even concerned. “What the…Oh…oh, yeah.” There is a tinge of regret and embarrassment in his voice. He pulls himself out of my armpit, and gets up on his haunches, facing my right side. I’m not entirely comfortable with the expression on his face, but I try to keep my composure. There’s a visible tension in his bearing.
“I’m not gay,” he says, as if trying to convince himself. “I know,” I reply, keeping my expression as blank as I can. To defuse the situation, I ask, “Can I have another hit?” He hands me the pipe and lighter without a word. I take a lungful of the smoke and hold it as long as I can. I hand the escort malatya pipe and lighter back to him, and he takes a good deep toke. It seems to relax him, and his face softens a bit.
My mind is drifting peacefully. I take my dick into my hand and rub it absent-mindedly. I’m not looking for a hard-on, or to jack off, or anything; it’s just a sort of habit, something I do when I’m naked. I notice that Dennis is watching me handle my cock pretty intently, but I’m not completely sure why. Perhaps he’s like me, in that I can look at dicks all day, whether they’re live in front of me, on a video, or just pictures. Or perhaps he’s just spacing out.
“A few years ago, I got hassled by some guys at my gym,” Dennis says, interrupting my reverie. I think to myself that it probably wasn’t because he wasn’t athletic enough, or that his cock wasn’t big enough. “I was always looking at the other guys’ dicks in the locker room, and they would catch me sometimes.”
“All the guys are looking at each others’ cocks in the locker room,” I say. “They may deny it, but they are all looking and comparing.”
“Yeah, but it felt different to me because I really liked looking at them,” Dennis said. “Three naked guys with football player builds cornered me in the locker room saying, ‘Like what you see, faggot?’ or ‘You want to suck this, don’t you, you queer?’ and it scared me because I DID like what I saw and I DID want to suck them! I thought they were reading my mind! They ended up just pushing me up against the lockers, but I ended up quitting that gym.”
It’s an all-too familiar story for me. I, too, got caught looking too long at other men in the showers at my gym. I’m not a small guy, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get beat up, but I still felt the sting of being found out. Fortunately, as often as not, they were looking back with the same prurient interest as I was, leading to some really hot quick encounters in remote corners of the locker room.
I want desperately to wrap my arms around Dennis and tell him that the other guys were all insecure and, anyway, it’s all in the past. But I have the distinct impression that he’s not looking for hugs or comfort, at least not from another man. So I content myself with the bland, “Kids can be mean.” He seems just as reassured as I feel helpful.
I decide that I should probably head back to my motel before this turns into a therapy session. I had enough of that in my prior life. I drag myself to my feet, and he follows suit. “I guess I’d better go,” I say, though part of me wants to stick around for round two with Dennis’ cock…which I notice seems to be coming to life again. “I suppose so,” Dennis says, sounding resigned. I grab my clothes from the floor and get dressed. Still naked, Dennis walks me to the door. I open it, then turn to say goodnight. In a moment of panic, I wonder what’s going to happen. I would normally hug and/or kiss the man I’d just had sex with, but that seems bold in this instance. A handshake seems too businesslike considering that I’d had his hard cock in my mouth just a short while earlier, and vice versa. I decide to let him take the lead.
“Thanks for the weed, and the beer,” I say. “Oh, and the blowjob!”
The awkwardness takes an unexpected turn when he looks me in the eye and says, just a little plaintively, “Don’t go, Jake. Please stay.”
My lightly stoned mind is struggling to understand what’s going on. I may regret it later, but I’m willing to risk playing therapist rather than pass up the possibility of having more skin time with this sexy man. “Please,” he pleads again.
I step back into the apartment as he shuts the door behind me. Dennis turns and walks back to the living room area, and I’m able to admire his very shapely ass, a perfect bubble-butt with a dusting of dark hair around his crack. That sort of thing really turns me on! I notice another patch of hair on his lower back, and two more over his kidneys. As he walks, his muscles move like those of a cougar, long, lean, strong; rippling just beneath the skin. Fuck, this guy is all man!
I strip naked again. “Another beer, man?” Dennis asks, without glancing over his shoulder. “Yeah, sure, why not,” I reply, taking a seat on the small couch, my balls resting on the fabric.
He walks back into the room, his cock and balls swinging seductively. I’m surprised when when I notice that he’s only carrying one bottle. “You aren’t having any?” I ask.
“I want to try something different,” he replies, lighting up the pipe again, taking a hit, and passing it to me. “I heard about it on the internet.”
“That’s not always the best place to find things to do,” I think but don’t say. My brain is getting hazy.
After a few more tokes, Dennis takes a swig of beer, burps, giggles, and hands me the bottle. “Drink some beer, then I want to drink the rest with my ass,” he says. “I hear it gets you a different kind of drunk than by drinking it the regular way.”
I’m puzzled, and say so. “What?” I ask. “With your…oh, I see what you mean. And…wait…you want me to do it to you?” My mind turns to all the online videos of fraternity hazing rituals that are almost always blatantly homoerotic and homophobic all at once. Pledges forced to suck their would-be “brothers'” dicks or worse. Hot, but then again, not.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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