Was he everything his pictures said he was? Hell, yes. He was taller than I’d thought, barely making it in under the ancient doorframe. There were those arms, those shoulders, that square jaw and those full lips. He was in every way as strikingly handsome and as beautifully built as his pictures had led me to believe. This was the guy you see on the street and literally turn around to follow. This was the guy you’d happily open your wallet for, if that’s what he was about.
He held out a massive, strong paw for me to shake. Huh? Well, fine. We shook hands, like men. I could smell traces of gym sweat on him. By all rights, I should’ve dropped to the floor from a combination of awe and lust.
But I didn’t. Actually confronted with this specimen ‒ a circumstance I never thought could happen ‒ I was surprisingly cool. Again, though: I’d made up my mind that he’d probably bolt. I maintained my defense mechanism, as it were. So I calmly asked him in, to have a seat. He entered, looked around, nodded to himself, and remained standing. There were damp patches showing under his arms, through his t-shirt. The gorgeous face was totally lacking in expression. But, fuck, even his furry eyebrows were sexy.
“Where’s the bed, man?” OK. He wasn’t into chitchat. Right down to business. Holy hell. It looked like it was going to happen and I’d be touching this god. I followed his lead and we went into my bedroom. Where he, again, just stood.
But now I was detecting uncertainty. Not about myself, though. Something else was going on; he was telegraphing his expectations. His breath was coming hard through his nostrils. I reached out my hand and ran it over one beautiful, rounded pec. I tweaked the nipple through the thin cotton, and he closed his eyes. And then it came to me like a gift. I suddenly knew that I was supposed to take charge.
“Strip for me.” That was it. I made the leap, and made it a subdued but unmistakable command. It felt like the biggest risk I’d ever taken, in spite of that feeling I was getting about what he wanted. Now he would laugh and leave. Now he would smile, shake his head, and ask me who the hell I thought I was.
No. He sat on the bed and took his boots and socks off, his eyes sometimes looking up to my face. Utterly blank. I met and matched his stare, not even touching my dick through my jeans. The silence in the room was as thick as his upper arms, the air itself misplaced by his hulking, muscled presence.
Then he stood and pulled his shirt up and over his head. The pecs were fuller than I’d hoped, the shoulders big enough to climb on. I saw tiny hairs circling his large, pink nipples, and the thin V of hair on his firm belly. A ring tattoo circled the hill of a bicep. He stood, impassive. He was offering himself up, this masterpiece fresh from the gym. My mind went to Roman gladiator movies and the fantasies they can spawn. I wanted to lick every inch of this giant.
But I stayed cool. I’d been right; he was waiting to be ordered. “Sit down”, I said. I unzipped and stepped out of my jeans, my cock flopping out free. Semi-hard, I stroked it in front of his face. His eyes took it in, then looked to my face. When he shifted his gaze back to my dick seconds later, it was like steel. He reached out a huge hand and cupped it. I moved nearer to his face, and saw his lips part a little as he rubbed my cockhead in his fingertips, staring at it like it was the first cock he’d ever seen. My heart was…well, pounding. There’s no other word for it.
Control wasn’t easy just then. I felt his thick lips just barely on my cockhead, his tongue beginning to circle the tip. Then I pulled away. “Take off your pants. Then get on your hands and knees.” I heard myself, stunned by my audacity in dictating to this fucking god. Yet I knew I was pleasing him in doing so.
He complied immediately. Once he was in the right position on the bed, I stripped myself as he turned his head to watch. His cock, I saw, wasn’t hard. Not a problem. Naked, I ran my hands over him. One rubbed his stomach while the other played on his back, his I-beam arms, his ass. My fingers pulled and played with the damp hair under his armpit, and then brushed against his cheek. The other hand rubbed, then smacked, one muscled ass cheek. He was looking straight ahead now. Inspired, I cupped my hand under his jaw and turned his head to look at me. His eyes still said nothing, and I said nothing. And my dick was dripping, and my heart was beyond the pounding stage. This was, in a word, unreal.I casually moved behind him. I spread my hands to stroke the backs of his meaty thighs, and then reached under to play with his furry, swinging balls. His back was heaving a little, the muscles pulsing with heavier breathing. My cock was rubbing against the sole of his giant bare foot. As my fingers curled around his stiffening cock, I noticed him drop his head. Whatever I was doing, I was doing it right.
Then I softly ran my thumb up and down the hairy, musky crack of his ass. He began rocking back and forth just a bit, then pushed that fantastic, round, huge, firm ass back to me further. I pressed my face to it. Eating hot ass is great. But when you’re this close to the most private space on a stud like this, it’s practically love.
I jutted out my tongue and licked his crack from top to bottom. The sweat, the musk of his ass hair, was better than anything I ever tasted. Then ‒ and this nearly sent me over the edge ‒ I heard a muffled, gentle whimper from this beast. Fuck. I was ready to cum right then. I dove in, my nose pushed hard against the crack, my tongue jabbing into the small, wrinkled hole. Another whimper. I felt, rather than saw, him drop his shoulders and head to the bed, tenting himself. I jammed my tongue in as deep as it would go, circling the tip inside, my hands gripping the tops of his hefty thigh muscles.
“Fuck me. Fuck me”, I heard, muffled and surprisingly gentle. I pulled my face away and slid a wet finger inside him. “Soon”, I said. I was enjoying the finger fucking too much to drop it, just then. It felt like this mound of beef was literally and completely dependent on my finger in his ass, like that one digit was in complete control of all of this huge, male beauty. Some guys, I guess, would be disappointed that such a stud would turn out to be totally submissive. I wasn’t. Against all odds and for a very little while, this Impossible Dream was all mine.
“Get on your back”, I said.
My megastud didn’t move right away.
To be continued…
Jack's new book, M4M: For an Hour, or Forever - The Gay Man's Guide to Finding Love Online will be out from Simon & Schuster in the spring of '07. Find out more - and write to Jack directly - at [extern url='http://www.jackmauro.com' target='_blank' text='www.jackmauro.com'].