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Now relaxed, I had an idea. I mopped up my load with his jock. Then I sealed it in a plastic bag. If I could, I was going to return the favor. I didn’t want this…relationship to end.
It was days later when I saw Joey at the gym again. I had no expectations other than maybe, maybe once again stripping next to him in the locker room. This time, me leaving the scummy jock we both shared on the bench for him to take. It would be plenty exciting enough.
But that didn’t exactly happen.
Although I followed pretty closely on his walk to the lockers, he must’ve moved like a madman once inside. Because he was already in the showers before I could even undress. Fuck. I passed him in the aisle–he nodded again, in that hard, nervous way–and I washed off real, real fast. He was dressed by the time I finished. He was, it seemed, hanging around too. Could it be? I took the chance, having no other cards to play.
Yep. He followed me home. On foot. I guess his seeing me begin walking told him that I lived close. I did, less than ten minutes away. I turned a corner, waited, and then caught him steadily behind me, at a respectable distance. I got to my block and slowed my pace even more. He was closer. I could practically feel his terror running from the length of sidewalk between us. I took out my key and now the pretense had to be dropped. I waited till he was next to me. My turn to nod, hard. He did the same, yet again. My dickhead tickling my thigh, I led him upstairs to my apartment.
“I got your jock, if you want it,” I said, and that was just about all the talking that was done. He was sexy as all hell in his t-shirt and jeans, Mediterranean muscled flesh, the black eyes, the crewcut, the full lips under the Roman nose. And this calendar stud was literally shaking. The intensity coming from him was pure high voltage. I moved close to him and put my hands on his heaving pecs. He shut his eyes, breathed in really hard, and then fucking grabbed me in as tight a hold as I’ve ever felt. His mouth pushed hard on mine and his tongue jutted into my mouth. It was like he’d never kissed anyone before. It was absurdly clumsy and sloppy and rough. My cock was rigid. I pressed my crotch to his and felt his own raging bone.
He backed away, trembling even more violently. I swear, his eyes were bulging too. The sexual tension was too much, and he ripped off his clothes both frenetically and–this stud was so anal–neatly. I pulled off just my shirt, sneakers and socks. Naked before me, that fat dark prick up, his beautiful chest rose up and down. I wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pulled him to me for another hard kiss, and his hands went to my zipper. Slobbering on my lower lip and filling my mouth with spit, he released my meat.
I was shaking too, now. Turning him by the shoulders, I then pushed him back onto the couch. His black eyes burned into mine. I lifted his stallion legs up; his long, slender feet were flexed at right angles. And I dove under his balls and into his ass like I’ve never done before. I didn’t care that I couldn’t breathe. I rammed my face as hard as I could into his spread ass cheeks, my nose digging into the hair and the musk, my mouth almost eating him alive. He curved his back more to give me better access, and I slurped like a starving man. I didn’t lick his asshole ‒ I rubbed my tongue on it so hard, it was pressing back up against my own nose.
At last I jabbed into his pink hole. It wasn’t easy but I snaked my tongue in there pretty damn far, turning my head to get in deeper. Joey was breathing in sharp little gasps now, one hand on my head and one on his dripping cock. Coming away for air, I slid my index finger in. “No,” he said, meaning business. Or did he? I left it in a second more, wiggling it in that super-tight man pussy. He said, ‘no’ again. But it was softer. So I finger-fucked him a little bit more, looking into those beautiful eyes.
His mouth was hanging open. I got off my knees and pressed my cockhead against his hole, running it up and down, smearing it with precum. His eyes widened in alarm and I somehow knew that fucking wasn’t going to happen. fantasy or not, he couldn’t go there. So I straddled his chest and started sliding my wet dick on his face. He didn’t try to suck; he just let his head hang back, feeling my thick meat rub his cheeks, nose, forehead and lips. Then I sat back, his cock under my ass.
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Bending, I locked my mouth onto his. Our tongues stuffed each other’s mouths, and the humping got even faster. If there wasn’t going to be actual fucking, this is what I had to have. A moment later and he tried to get his mouth free, to grunt and yell. I didn’t let him. Practically shooting out breath through my own nostrils, he bucked hard below my ass and I felt his legs spasm and warm, wet cum on my crack. Still locking my tongue around his, I fisted out a creamy load onto his pecs and nipples. Some got on my hand and, pulling away from the kiss, I wiped it on his lips. Then kissed him again.
It had been amazing and animal, all the way. Talking afterward didn’t seem right. I mean, none. I didn’t even offer a towel or shower. His heavy breathing eased up, he threw on his clothes, he–that’s right–nodded at me hard again, and left. And I knew absolutely that I’d been right to say nothing. There was a bunch of confusion and issues in that gorgeous head. I didn’t want to mess with it. I also knew that my only chance of getting him again lay in playing by these rules.
(End of story, or such as it is so far. As I said, this really happened to a friend of mine. He even showed me the cum-filled jock. Wouldn’t let me buy it, though. The bastard.)
Jack's new book, M4M: For an Hour, or Forever - The Gay Man's Guide to Finding Love Online is out and it looks great! Check out excerpts and more at 'M4M'."
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