Ay: Ekim 2023

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

In Part 1 we meet 20-something Brian (still processing an old but nasty break-up with his ex-girlfriend) and his gay friend Mark, as Brian shares a story he’s never told anyone.

“Hey Brian, this is Mark. Had to get a new phone, so save this number. Wyd 2nite?”

Do I answer honestly? Do I tell him that I’m laying in bed and furiously jerking it to a black girl and latina finger bang each other? Do gay guys even like to hear about straight dudes beating it off to lesbian porn? Probably not.

I fumble with my phone and try to wipe the pre-cum off of my fingers, but smudge some over the screen.

“Nothin much, u? Wanna chill?”

I glance from my now pornless phone to watch my cock practically jumping up and down off of my belly, leaving a glistening pool of pre-cum left of my navel. Do I finish? I’ve already jacked off twice today.

“I’m like 5 mins from your house. Let’s Netflix and chill.”

I scoff. He’s joking of course. We’ll watch Netflix and smoke. But we’ve never “chilled” and aren’t likely to start now.

“C u soon,” I text. My cock isn’t stiff anymore so I look around for a towel or a shirt or tissue or something to clean up the precum. No luck. I rub the clear liquid over my stomach. My happy trail soaks up most of it as I stuff my soft cock into my underwear. I throw on my shirt and button my jeans, still tight in the in-seam from a recent wash. I start the dishwasher just as the doorbell rings.

I open the door and click! Mark takes a picture of me with his phone.

“New phone. New camera. New me,” he says, waving the latest piece of technology in my face. “But old you. Your fly is open,” he says, walking past me into my apartment, plopping down on the couch.

I look down to find that indeed my fly is wide open. My black boxer briefs spare the details, but the sheer bulk of my package is on display. I zip up, but the crotch is so tight you can tell my cock is resting to the left. Just another day in my pants.

Mark is someone I never thought I’d be friends with. He’s gay, and not that I’m homophobic, but I’ve never actually hung out with gay people until my girlfriend at the time introduced me to him. She and I haven’t been together for six months now, but Mark and I have grown close despite the nasty break-up.

“I’ve got some green,” he says, pulling out a bag of dank buds, “and I figured we should order pizza.”

We light up a bowl, order some za’s, and shoot the shit while watching a nature documentary. He opines my post-break-up transformation. I finished both tattoo sleeves on my arms and my once messy head of jet black hair is now tightly cropped and carved.

“Yeah I finally got her covered up,” I say as Mark squeezes the Üçyol travesti part of my bicep that once bore a tattoo of Jessica’s name.

Mark’s touch sends a sensation that I miss. I’m not gay, but it’s been so long since I’ve been touched intimately.

I like my girls with long dark hair-he is blonde and buzzed. I like my girls toned but petite-he has thick arms, broad shoulders, and although he doesn’t have a lot of fat, he’s not skinny or buff. I like my girls with vaginas and boobs-he has a flat chest and, from having seen him in his skivvies, I can tell he’s packing something that is the opposite of a vagina.

After a few slices of pizza, a couple more hits, and a nature documentary about mating animals, Mark turns on some artsy movie.

“I keep thinking about that elephant’s penis,” Mark laughs. “But what’s weirder is that, for the size of our bodies, human’s have the largest penis of the animal kingdom.”

I’m really high and endlessly giggly, but sober up fast when Mark says, “And yours is definitely one of the largest.”

I look down at my crotch, then back at wide-grinned Mark. “It’s only seven-and-a-half inches,” I say before thinking.

“The average male penis is five-and-a-half inches, so you’re doing pretty well. It’s got a nice left-leaning upward curve and graceful head.”

“How do you know?” I ask, stunned and embarrassed at how well he knows my erect penis.

“Jessica showed me one of your dick pics.”

It turns me on to know that other people have seen my dick. I’m flattered at Mark’s compliments. But my gay friend just said he likes my cock-my very straight cock.

“Don’t worry, it was just that one picture. And she and I are no longer friends after she slept with a guy I was fucking.” Mark misunderstands my look of discomfort. Good. I don’t want him to think I’m homophobic. I steer the conversation away from my cock.

“Wait, she slept with a gay dude?”

Mark scoffs and says, “I don’t really know what he was. A cheater, apparently. But everyone’s a little bit bi.”

“Oh yeah?” I goad Mark. “Have you ever been with a girl?”

“Once. It had a lasting effect, but not the normal one.”

“What!” I yell.

“I’ve eaten pussy. I admit it! And I hated every minute of it.”

My cock twitches before I ask, “How can you hate eating pussy? It’s the best thing ever.”

“Well, for you,” he says. “Sucking cock is way more fun, way hotter, way more satisfying.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Mark has an unreadable grin. “Are you saying you’ve never sucked a dick? Or experimented with a guy?” he asks enthusiastically.

“Nope. Never,” I say with confidence, but my eyes dart away. Crap.

“Wait, Alanya Travesti wait, wait, wait, wait. You just lied, Brian.”

With a reluctant smile, I exhale. Fine. “Okay. I’m going to tell you this, but you cannot tell a living soul.”

“Promise. Go on.”

“The summer between high school and college, me and two friends jacked off together. Once!”

Mark demands details.

“Senior year, two of my best buds from the track team were just hanging out in my room. Josh was really horny and, never one to be embarrassed or shy about anything, grabbed my laptop, put on some porn and whipped it out. My friend Greg and I ignored it. Every dude jacks off, it’s no big deal. And Josh is a show-off anyway-nothing new”

Mark looks desperate for more.

“But he’s playing some pretty good porn,” I continue. “I specifically remember three chicks going at it-nothing off limits, really raunchy. It was pretty hot. Josh notices Greg and I are sporting boners casually told us to join. You can’t hide anything in athletic shorts.”

“That’s why I love them,” Mark interrupts. “Continue.”

“So I sit next to Josh, Greg sits next to me, we pull our dicks out and start beating off on my twin bed.”

I look at Mark. There’s more…but this is really embarrassing. Can I just be done? Mark gestures with his hand to continue. I sigh.

“We’re already touching thighs and shoulders, so Josh suggests that we jerk each other off. I don’t have an opinion about it because the video is so hot. Next thing I know I’ve got a dick in each hand, with Greg’s on mine, while Josh just kicks back with a huge ass grin on his face. Typical Josh.”

Mark is in heaven. “Were their dicks big?”

“Josh’s was huge. Really skinny, nerdy dude. Average height, but had a wine bottle between his legs. Really thick and veiny with a round head. Greg’s must have been like mine because I don’t remember it feeling that different than jacking my own.”

“Did you cum?”

I sigh again. I can’t believe I’m telling this story. I see Mark getting ready to demand that I keep going, but I don’t let him. “I was actually the first to cum. I tried to hold off as long as I could though. But I was young and didn’t have the endurance.”

Mark guffaws. “I can tell there’s more,” he holds back from a scream.

“The three of us made a bet that the first to cum had to eat some of everyone’s cum. It was Josh’s idea of course.”

Mark’s jaw dropped. “So…,” he couldn’t even finish his thought he was so excited.

“Although a little got on my chest, most of my cum dribbled down Greg’s hand. So I licked some of my cum off of Greg’s hand, showed both of the guys it was on my tongue, swallowed Konyaaltı travesti it, and showed them nothing was on my tongue—while they’re dying of laughter. Then they made me do it again because it wasn’t enough the first time.”

“And you’re still jacking them off this entire time? Who came next?”

“Well, after I came I was done jacking them off. The video wasn’t hot anymore, and although I’d tasted my own cum before, I wasn’t really a fan of the flavor. Greg came next and it literally sprayed everywhere.” I hesitated. “Some actually got on my chin, so Greg shoveled it into my mouth with his finger.”

Mark’s eyes are huge and glazed. His unadulterated enjoyment makes me feel less embarrassed about the experience. He adjusts his seat and tugs at the inseam of his pants. What he’s trying to hide is impossible to hide: he had an erection. I feel like I’m in control now.

“I remember his cum was clear, like water. And it tasted really sweet compared to mine. If I was going to be eating cum I’d prefer his I guess.”

I thought for a moment that Mark drooled. Exasperated, he asks, “So did Josh cum?”

“Before Josh came, he scooped up some of my cum from my chest, some of Greg’s cum from his chest, and used it as lube. It’s weird saying it out loud, but at the time we three thought it was hilarious. When Josh was about to cum, he surprised us by standing up on the bed next to me. He pointed his massive, cum-covered dick at my face and demanded I open my mouth.”

“Holy. Shit.”

“So I reluctantly opened my mouth, and as soon as I did Josh erupted. Seriously, it was like a volcano. The first huge spurt went straight to the back of my throat. I choked, so I closed my mouth right then! I couldn’t get the taste of cum out of my mouth for the rest of the day.”

“That is amazing,” Mark says, exhausted. I wonder if he knows that there is a dark spot on his jeans where his pre-cum has obviously pooled. It’s much farther away from his crotch than I thought it would be.

“He exploded so intensely that it also got on Greg’s face and hair, the wall, and on our shorts. But I swear that’s it! That’s the only time I’ve ever done anything with a dude.”

Mark looks at my crotch. He notices what I have not. “Looks like memories weren’t the only things to come flooding back,” he teases.

I laugh nervously. My dick is very clearly trying to burst out of my pants. I must be too high to have noticed until now. “Yeah, I guess talk of cumming while being in the middle of a long dry spell will make a guy a little horny no matter what,” I say, jokingly grabbing my visible hardon. It’s better to acknowledge the obvious than deny embarrassment.

The room falls silent save for the tv, which neither of us is watching. I look at Mark looking at me. Mark adjusts his bulge again. He leaves his hand there, but his eyes are fixed on my crotch.

Part 2 promises much, much more, as Mark and Brian have what could be a friendship-changing experience.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Hi guys. I’m a happily married middle aged guy. This encounter took place last month while my wife was out of town on business.

I’d been feeling pretty bored sitting around the house for the last few days. There’s not much to do here without her around. Yeah, right. We have a lot of friends in town and seem to always be busy with some one or another.

I was going out of my mind so I figured what the hell, I put on a nice shirt and a pair of shorts and headed out to the new neighborhood bar for a beer or two. It was a real nice place. A sports bar kind of atmosphere. My favorite.

I began talking to a couple of different people there, and after a while a young guy walked in and sat down next to me. His name was Jimmy. He was in a t-shirt and shorts. Typical for south Florida in June. Jimmy’s in his early 20’s and works in the next town over as a computer techie. All he could talk about was his new truck. A 2004 Ford F-250 4X4.

As we talked some Belek travesti more he seemed like a very likeable guy. He all but begged me to go outside and take a look at his new truck. So off we went outside. I have to admit it was a beautiful truck. It was jet black with dark tinted windows. Something he said he always wanted. Even the interior was black with an oversized bench seat.

We went back inside for another beer when he suggested we go for a ride. At first I declined. Then figured why not, and off we went.

We stopped to fill up and grab a six pack for the ride. Jimmy said he wanted to go out west of town to try the 4-wheel drive. So I directed him to a plot of land I used to 4-wheel on years ago.

After a while Jimmy was like a kid in a candy store. A big smile as he easily went over every sand dune he could find.

Inevitably the beer took it’s toll and Jimmy had to piss. We were way out in the middle of nowhere so he jumped Kemer travesti out of the truck, walked about 20 feet and went right there. Not really odd in itself, but instead of unzipping he just pulled his shorts to the side as if he hadn’t any underwear on. Oh well, to each his own I thought to myself. I used to do that myself. Oh, to be young and single again.

I hadn’t noticed before, but when Jimmy got back inside the outline of his shaft was visible through his shorts. I’ve never really thought about guys before. Must have been the beer.

As we continued driving my eyes were drawn more and more towards Jimmy’s cock. By then I was buzzing pretty good. Another 5 minutes later it was my turn to piss.

When I got back inside the truck my whole world turned upside down. Jimmy had taken off his shorts, his legs were apart and was openly stroking his cock and squeezing his balls. I quickly shut the door.

All I could do was to Travesti nervously watch his hardening cock rise. Jimmy didn’t say a word as he turned sideways on the seat, sitting towards me now still pumping his shaft. He even went as far as sliding to me some and then lying almost flat on his back.

Then Jimmy spoke. “Come on man” he said. “Suck it for me. I see the way you look at it.”

That’s all it took. I knelt forward, with plenty of room I might add, and kissed and licked Jimmy’s hard on. I never knew a cock could taste so good.

I quickly got into a rhythm and was soon bobbing up and down on Jimmy’s big cock. Man, he felt so good in my mouth.

He was watching me take more and more of his cock. Moaning louder as I went deeper and deeper. I started gagging and had to back off some, but had a good amount of his pole on my mouth sucking up and down.

Jimmy warned me that he was about to cum, but I didn’t care. I wanted it. By this time Jimmy had a hand on the back of my head fucking my mouth. His cum filled my mouth quickly. I had to swallow fast to keep up. My God, I wanted that.

Any of you guys who live in and around northern Palm Beach county in Florida e-mail me. Let’s get together.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

He kept going on about how hard-up he was. How he hadn’t had his cock up an arse for however long it was and how his balls were so blue that a fart would get him off.

Me and Biggsy kept laughing at how desperate he was acting but I kind of felt sorry for him in a stupid sort of way. Smithy’s the only bender we know in our dead-end little town, and it can’t be easy for him to meet up with other blokes when he fancies having himself some bum fun.

So then Biggsy goes and says, “Why can’t you just fuck a girl when you get horny? There’s plenty ’round here who’d be up for it.”

I nearly choked on my blow that made me laugh so much. I mean, Biggsy’s always half-baked at the best of times, but get a bit of weed in him and I swear he’s cock-a-doodle-do.

“He’s fucking gay, you dick-squirt,” I managed to blurt out through my fits of giggles. “He wants his knob up an arse, not up some tart’s vagoo!”

“I didn’t mean up her muff!” Biggsy barked over at me. “I meant up her arse – the right sort of girl would let you do that, Smithy mate!”

“I’m not gonna shag some girl up her skanky arse,” Smithy said back, looking dead funny he was so outraged by the suggestion that he would. “I want a fit lad’s chuff around my knob… I wanna see his muscly buns and smell his hairy crack while I’m sliding my cock in and out of his dookie…”

“Loadsa girls ’round here have muscly buns and hairy cracks,” Biggsy chuckled.

“It’s got to be a bloke, seriously mate,” Smithy grinned back at him. “I wanna reach underneath him and wank his prick off while I fuck him… there’s not many girls I could that to, is there?”

“Oh I dunno…” Biggsy laughed. “Pick one up on the Powell Estate and anything’s possible!”

“Is that what you do then?” I asked him, interested in how it worked when gay lads were shagging each other. “Wank him off while you’re bumming him up the arse?”

“Of course you do!” Smithy snapped, looking irritated that I could be so stupid as not to know that. “He’s got to enjoy it too, mate. You’ve got to wank him off… it’d be selfish not to.”

“But doesn’t he enjoy having your cock up inside him?” I asked.

“Well yeah… he does,” Smith said, looking less pissed off now that he could see I was genuinely intrigued. “I mean, it does feel kinda nice…”

“Have you had a dick up you?” Biggsy cut in. I was pleased he’d asked that – I’d always wondered it myself. Smithy went on and on about bending blokes over and banging them up their brown-eyes, but he never said much about doing it the other way too.

Thinking about the question, he took a draw of his joint and slowly exhaled. Biggsy turned the telly down a few notches so we didn’t miss his answer.

“I do take it sometimes, yeah,” he said. “And when I do it that way, I usually enjoy it…”

“But you prefer being the one looking at the back of the other guy’s head?” Biggsy grinned.

“Yeah, that usually works better for me,” Smithy chuckled back. “At least when there’s two of us… when there’s three blokes, it’s best being the one in the middle!”

That made me and Biggsy laugh for ages – the blow we’d got was top-notch stuff – but I couldn’t help but wonder if Smithy really had picked up two guys at once.

“Are you for real, mate?” I called over to him when Biggsy had finally stopped giggling like a derf. “You’ve actually copped off with two lads at the same time?”

“A couple of times, yeah,” Smithy grinned. I knew he wouldn’t be telling us this if he wasn’t so ripped. “You remember that stag do I went on in Blackpool last year…?”

We both grinned wide-eyed. Jesus, if I looked as gormless as Biggsy did when I was high, I’d really have to start laying off the stuff.

“I picked up a couple of blokes there and the three of us did it in one of their hotel rooms. Fucking stunk the place out we did… shagging each other every which way!”

“Aw Jesus,” Biggsy chortled. “Three dicks and not a pussy in sight! What a fucking waste…”

“That’s the whole point!” Smithy laughed. “Who needs a pussy when you’ve got three tight little arseholes to play with!”

“Blokes’ arses, though,” Biggsy said back. “All hairy and shitty…”

I could see Biggsy was pretty much on the opposite end of the sexuality spectrum from where Smithy had landed up.

“Seriously mate,” Smithy grinned over at him indulgently. “Another lad’s arse is as horny as fuck when you’re buried ball-deep up it and it’s squeezing your porker as tight as a vice!”

Biggsy looked unconvinced but I couldn’t help but laugh. I said, “You sure like getting your cock up another fella’s grizzly!”

Smithy smiled over. “I’m getting a fucking bone-on over here, all this talk of shagging blokes up their butts! I’m fucking desperate, mate – it’s been way too long!”

“How long has it been?” I asked him.

“Six months,” he said, “and that was just a quickie with some old geezer in the park.”

“Why don’t you just wank off when you’re in the shower?” Biggsy asked, like it really could be just a simple as Lara Travesti that!

“I’m sick of tossing myself off,” Smithy grumbled. “I need a hot, sticky arsehole champing at my poker… a nice furry crack to watch my schlong sliding in and out of…”

Smithy stared over at Biggsy and I guess his eyes must have wandered a little lower down on his body than Biggsy had expected.

“No fucking way, mate!” Biggsy bellowed, laughing hysterically. “You ain’t getting your fucking dong anywhere near my virgin shitter!”

I peered over, not really getting it at first, and Biggsy kept laughing and called over to me, “He’s checking me out between my legs! Eyeing up between my thighs like he wants to shove his gay woodie up my clampster!”

Smithy laughed too. “Sorry mate, but it’s driving me up the wall! Two lovely little arseholes you’re both sitting on, and neither of them up for having some fun!”

“You’d really wanna bum us?” Biggsy grinned at him. “We’re your two best mates and you’d wanna bend us over and shag us up our arses?”

“Of course I fucking would,” Smithy admitted with a smirk. I knew that there was no way he would be telling us this if he hadn’t taken half a bag of weed into his lungs already. “You’re both pretty fit and I bet you’ve got a gorgeous pair of hot brown mussies hiding away down the backs of your kecks!”

“Aw, you dirty bastard!” Biggsy laughed uproariously. He was pretending like he was shocked but I could tell he was loving this really. “You’re not serious are you?”

Smithy grabbed at the front of his jeans and made it obvious that he was flying at full mast underneath the blue material. “I’m about eight inches of serious, mate!”

“Fuck me!” Biggsy chortled. “Have you seen this, Gabe? He’s got a big fuck-off dong in his pants and it’s horny for our two crud-boxes!”

“It’s hardly surprising,” I said back, grinning at them both. “He’s gay and here’s us two lads right next to him with our tight little poopers between our cakes… it’s no wonder, really, that’s he’s getting horned-up thinking about one of us giving him a piggy-back!”

“You have no idea, Gabe,” Smithy said, looking genuinely agitated. “My bollocks are aching and I keep jizzing off in my sleep, I’m so horny!”

“All for the sake of getting your dick up an arse…?”

“That’s all I need, mate… a little brown bullseye just to work my cock in and out of… just for a few fucking seconds… just until I’ve cum…”

I was about to say something that I knew Biggsy would never let me forget, when he interrupted me by feeling the need to tell us both, “If I was gonna do gay stuff, I reckon I’d be like you, Smithy – I’d want my dick up the other guy’s arse. I don’t fancy all the kissy-cuddly stuff and there’s no way in fuck I’m gonna bend over to get bummed by some other fella’s knob.”

Smithy wasn’t much interested in that and instead turned to ask me, “What about you, Gabe? What would you wanna do if you were with another bloke?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “I ain’t ever really thought about it.”

“Would you wanna bend over for another fella?” he persisted.

“I dunno,” I said again. “I suppose… in a way… if you’re gonna do gay stuff you might as well do something you can’t do with a girl…”

“You wanna get your arse fucked, Gabe?” Biggsy chortled, taking the piss, and I was wishing that he wasn’t with us the way things had started heading.

“I’m just saying that there’s no point doing stuff you could do with a girl… you should try doing something different… see what it feels like…”

“So let’s get this straight,” Biggsy chuckled. “Smithy over here – our resident gay boy – is desperate to nut off up some bloke’s hairy arse…”

“Me balls are so fucking full, mate,” Smithy snivelled, laying it on thick. “The elastic on my Calvins is making them chaffe red raw…”

“And Gabe over on this side,” Biggsy went on, “has come over all bi-curious tonight… so off his head that he wouldn’t mind having a sausage sliding up his shit chute…”

“I didn’t say that,” I countered. “And I’m not so stoned that I don’t know what I’m doing…”

“You said you wouldn’t mind seeing what it feels like,” Biggsy reminded me.

“Well, yeah… but…”

I couldn’t think of how to respond to that so I just stared at Smithy hoping he’d help me out.

Instead he looked serious and muttered, “You’d be doing me a hell of a favour, mate…”

My brain told my mouth to say, “Dream on, Smithy, it ain’t gonna happen.” Instead I heard my tongue forming the slightly different sentence: “And you reckon it’ll take just a minute or so…?”

“If that,” Smithy nodded. “And I’ll owe you big-time, dude.”

“Oh my God!” Biggsy laughed. “You guys cannot be serious!”

“It’s got fuck all to do with you!” Smithy barked at him, more aggressively than I’d ever heard him speak to anyone. “It’s just one guy helping his mate out, that’s all!”

“Except I’m gonna have to watch it! Watch you getting his shit all over your cock!”

“Well, Manavgat travesti piss off back home then!” Smithy snapped at him. “We’re not asking for an audience!”

“No, I reckon I’ll stay put,” Biggsy sneered. “Might teach me a bit of stuff they didn’t tell us about in sex ed!”

Smithy didn’t force it: if it came to a fight we both knew Biggsy could take him. Smithy was a big bloke but Biggsy had more dirty tricks up his sleeve.

So Smithy backed down but saved face by adding, “If you film us on your phone, I’ll smash the thing. I swear to God.”

Biggsy kept sneering. “Yeah, like I’d wanna see it twice!”

Smithy turned back to me and said, his face looking almost pleading by now, “This is so good of you, Gabe. There’s nothing gay in it… I want you to know that, mate…”

I should have said – if the whole brain-to-mouth circuit had been working properly – that it had been a stupid joke and of course I wouldn’t let him roger my fucking arse. But instead I heard myself say, “So how do we do it? Do I get on the floor or something?”

“Yeah, just get on all-fours and pull the back of your jeans down. Pretend like you’re squeezing a shit out and it’ll all be over before you know I’m even up there!”

“Bit of high class porn this!” Biggsy chuckled and we both glared at him to butt the fuck out.

Say you’re going to get more cans, then grab your coat and sod off home, my brain was telling me. Instead, I did as Smithy had asked and kneeled down on the floor, bending forwards to support myself with both hands on the sticky carpet.

“Right, pull the back of your kecks down,” Smithy commanded, undoing his fly. “If you want me to wank you off, pull the front down too.”

“It’s like Mills and Boon,” Biggsy quipped but this time we both just ignored him.

I undid my belt and yanked my jeans and boxers down a bit. I wanted him to wank me off – my cock was already semi at the thought of having a bloke who’d know what he was doing giving me a hand-job.

“Oh my God,” Biggsy laughed. “You’re not gonna push your dick into that godawful thing… tell me you’re not!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Smithy bit back, grappling his hard-on out through his fly. “It’s a hot piece of tush…”

“No way is it! It’s spotty and flabby with a skanky crack that looks like it stinks to high fuck…”

“Is it that bad?” I asked, swivelling my head around to look at Smithy.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he said abruptly, reaching forwards to run his fingers between my cheeks, all the way from the backs of my bollocks right up inside my trench to where it levelled out at the bottom of my spine.

Before I could ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, he raised his fingers to his nose and sniffed them deeply.

“Aw Jesus Christ!” he gasped. “This is gonna be awesome! Your arse is gonna reek once I’m shagging you up it!”

Biggsy guffawed but I cringed with embarrassment.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked him. “That my arse smells, I mean?”

“It’s the best, mate,” he replied, shuffling up behind me. “Now just relax and push back when you feel my bell-end sliding into you.”

Smithy put both hands on my hips as he pushed his cock head against the hottest and stickiest part of my hairy furrow.

“Aw, this is dead nice,” he said with the tip of his donger jabbing against my hot manky hole. “You’re a star, Gabe, letting me use your arse like this. I’m not gonna forget this in a hurry, mate.”

“Me neither,” Biggsy muttered.

Smithy reached fowards and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me against him as his fat helmet suddenly pushed its way inside me.

I let out a fart – a real blow-out to be honest – but Smithy didn’t seem to care and started sliding the rest of his cock up my gravy spout. It felt massive – much, much thicker than I’d expected – and my poor bum-ring strained and stretched to cope with the sheer girth of the thing.

So then Biggsy chuckled, “I had no idea gay sex could be so beautiful, guys. It’s like watching a love scene seeing him work his big knob into your gungy turd-hole, Gabe!”

“Shuddup!” I snapped. “Do you think I like having him screw me up the butt?”

Smithy kept going, sliding his shaft effortlessly up my raunchy passage.

He said, “It’s gonna stink really rough once I get going properly, but I promise I’ll spunk off as fast as I can…”

“Sheer poetry,” Biggsy tittered.

“Will you shut the fuck up!” Smithy barked at him.

“Although I’ve got to admit,” he went on, “it’s kinda hot watching you shove a big cock like yours up another fella’s hairy arse…”

“Yeah?” Smithy asked, clearly unconvinced, with his pubic bush now tickling my bum-cheeks.

“Yeah,” Biggsy grinned and I waited for the insulting punchline.

Biggsy stayed quiet and Smithy grabbed me by the hips again and started working his thick dick slowly in and out of my hole.

“Aw yeah, this is just what I need!” he gasped. “Your brown-ring is really tasty, mate!”

“How Side travesti can it be tasty?” I laughed, pushing my butt-cheeks back against his hips. “It’s just my skanky arsehole!”

“It’s as hot as fuck!” Smithy chuckled, speeding his rhythm up as he started thrusting more roughly. “It all tight and slidey, and it’s got a lovely beefy stink to it!”

He inhaled deeply, craning his face down to get his nose as close as he could to the hairy crack his thick cock was pushing in and out of, and gasped, “Aw fuck yeah! It’s gonna be a really smelly bum-job, this… just how I like it!”

I had to laugh again. “Is that what I’m doing, Smithy? Giving you a bum-job?”

“Too right you are,” he panted, now going at full-pelt in and out of my hole. “And I owe you big-time, Gabe… I won’t forget it!”

I liked that he called it a ‘bum-job’. It made it sound like what we doing was just two stupid lads doing sex play. Kind of like, “My gay mate was horny, so I bent over and gave him a bum-job as a favour!”

Yeah, that sounded like getting butt-fucked was really just a bit of fun between mates.

Biggsy, to my surprise, had a different take on it.

He called over, “I can’t believe I’ve ended up with a boned-up pole watching you dirty fuckers going at it like a couple of horny sailors!”

In spite of how much he was enjoying thumping in and out of me, Smithy had to laugh. “Getting you all horny, is it… watching my big gay dick fudging his hairy little clacker?!”

Biggsy undid himself and pulled a hefty rod of his own out through his zipper. The skin was pulled right back and the head of it was a shiny red like an unripe plum.

“I’m gonna need to wank off, guys… fuck knows why, but seeing you shagging him up his arse is making my knob sore!”

Smithy laughed again as Biggsy grabbed his thick veiny shaft and started jacking his foreskin up and down.

Then he suggested to Biggsy, “Kneel down in front of Gabe, mate… he can get his gob around your schlong… nosh you off while I’m ploughing his muck!”

“I’m not gonna suck Biggsy’s cock, dude! I’m not having that scabby thing anywhere near my mouth!”

“All right then,” Smithy said, having another idea. “Come over here and stand over his back… I’ll suck you off the best you’ve ever had!”

Biggsy leapt up from the couch and hurried over to Smithy. He yanked his trousers and pissy Y-fronts down and clambered over me to position one knee on either side of my torso.

The slurping started up immediately as Smithy proved how expert he was at giving head to another bloke.

“Aw that’s nice, mate,” Biggsy gasped. “Use your tongue on me pisser…”

I looked back over my shoulder but all I could see was Biggsy’s rough-as-fuck arse. He’d laughed about how grody my crack had looked but – Jesus wept! – his was a fucking shit-fest round his chunder and the backs of his saggy white briefs were a road map of skid-marks.

I wondered if even Smithy would fuck an arse as heinous as that.

“Really suck it hard… like it’s a fucking lolly…” Biggsy panted. “And don’t be frightened to use your teeth!”

I was pleased that Biggsy had joined in with us. I’d been worried that next time we were with Sanders and Crawley he’d start taking the piss about watching Gabe have his stinky brown crack fucked by Smithy’s big chopper. Now that he was ball-deep himself, and his back-door was so much skankier than mine, I didn’t think it so likely that the memory would re-surface.

“Ah yeah… I can smell his shitty arse getting fucked!” Biggsy huffed, grabbing the taller guy’s head and hammering his cock really fast in and out of his mouth.

“This gay sex stuff,” he grunted, bucking his hips like a piston. “There’s not much that’s gay about it…”

Smithy pulled off him and his thick goopy slaver dribbled down onto my arse cheeks.

“Fuck me up the arse!” he commanded to Biggsy. “Get behind me and shove your dick up me chuff while I’m porking him up his!”

“Aw yeah!” Biggsy surprised me by agreeing, and quickly moved around behind Smithy to squat down between his shins.

“Bloody hell, Smithy mate, your arse is like a big gaping cunt,” he declared. “I thought you said you didn’t like having cocks up it…”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Smithy called back. “I just said I prefer it when it’s my chubster what goes up the dumpster.”

Biggsy shuffled up closer to his new-found fuck-buddy and guided his dick into position.

“A bit manky back here, aren’t you?” Biggsy said as he pushed his cock head up through Smithy’s well-stretched pooper.

Smithy chuckled, gasping at the intrustion. “Just think of it as natural lube, mate.”

Biggsy’s hips started smacking against Smithy’s buttocks and he grunted in pleasure as he had his first taste of fucking another bloke up the arse.

“Aw Jesus! This is fucking crisp!” he gasped, humping his mate’s back-end as fast as his hips could buck. “Your arse is dead tight and the inside’s more wet and slidey than a minge!”

“Hold still!” Smithy told him, sounding fucked off that Biggsy had started banging him so rough. “I’m the one in the middle, so it’s my cock and arse that do the moving… okay?”

“Whatever, mate,” Biggsy panted. “Just hurry up… my helmet’s gonna burst!”

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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When I was 19 I went to an older friend’s party. I was probably one of the younger guests at the party. There was a keg of beer, weed being smoked and other drugs that were not so obvious.

As the evening wore on I started kicking it with this older man who was chatting me up and out of the blue asked me if I wanted a couple lines of coke. I had never done coke and said so and he was really cool and said I would be fine and should give it a try so I did; I was instantly horny! Being mostly couples it was kind of a lonely party for me and an hour later as the party ended my friend asked me if I wanted to go back to his house and do a couple more lines and hang out so being eager to have some social interaction I readily agreed.

He gave me a nice fat line and a beer. I noticed I felt alive and very horny. Soon we were talking about sex and watching Cinemax soft core porn. We did some more coke and he told me he was gay and thought I was really cute… I was so high that I was eating up his compliments. His touches, his breath and the porn had its effect on me and I was thinking he wanted to suck my dick and I was going to let him after a few more lines he grabbed my arm and spun me around into his arms and lips he grabbed my ass I was shocked and horny ready for him to suck my dick.

I could feel his dick against my belly through his slacks, his tongue was pushing into my mouth; oh man I was horny. I just stood there and let him kiss me and grope my body and feeling his hard dick pressing into Çankaya travesti my belly; his dick felt big and hard. When he pulled back he asked if I wanted to smoke a bowl I was very agreeable so he pulled out a glass pipe and told me to take a hit as he lit the bowl. I was curious about the pipe and did not question it. After two or three hits I was so horny that I felt I would do anything he wanted me to do. He didn’t smoke.

The next thing he did was pull my hand to his dick and kiss me some more. His dick felt great and I enjoyed feeling him I was ready for anything and started kissing him back I was sucking on his tongue and grabbing his dick. I felt the kitchen counter behind me he spun me around and started kissing my neck I felt his dick pushing against my ass. I reached back and held his hand as he started dry fucking me. His hard dick pressed snuggly between my butt checks was a new sensation for me.

We made out for a few this way. His hands pulling my hips his lips and tongue on my neck oh his dick and the coke. When we broke he handed the pipe to me and I took three big hits while holding his dick. He asked me if I wanted to fool around more as he looked into my eyes and I was just melting and squeezing his dick. We went to his room and he asked me to undress. He told me to go into the closet and get something to wear. There was all woman’s clothes in the closet but I didn’t care I just wanted to feel his dick. Standing there naked I pick a pair of black panties and a red Dikmen travesti babydoll. I went to him. He was naked and he kissed me and was pushing me to my knees and started rubbing his dick against my face.

I started kissing it, licking it, pretty soon I had the head in my mouth while jerking on it. I was being pulled towards his bed and he laid me down on my back he crawled between my legs and pressed his dick right against my ass as he started kissing me again. He said that he was going to fuck me and I was so horny I just moaned and pressed my ass against his dick. He pulled my panties to the side and I felt his dick against my hole pressing hard.

He lubed me up and started pushing into me while calling me his bitch. I had tears in my eyes and would of cried out but his tongue was in my mouth and his lips caused my crying to be muffled grumbling but still he pushed and I could feel him throbbing the pain was short lived and soon I felt his balls against my ass. He said he was going to cum and I wrapped my legs and arms around him and held him as he kissed me.

When he was done he asked me to shower with him and I did. I washed his body. When I got to his dick and started sucking him in the shower and next thing I know my hands are on the shower wall and I’m pushing my ass out as he pushes his dick into my tight ass. This time he was pounding into me as I moaned and begged him to fuck me and again he came in my ass. He picked out a very sexy nightgown for me and said if I Eryaman travesti wanted more dick his roommate would be home shortly.

I did want more dick. I asked him to get me high again and as soon as I smoked I was ready to suck more dick. His roommate had a nice dick that I kissed and licked for half hour I was learning to deep throat without gagging before he came on my face. I felt him move towards my ass and my friend gave me the pipe again and feed me his dick in that order. A dick rubbing and pushing against my sweet bubble butt and one in my mouth and me in a very sexy nightie. I was loving the feeling of being worked at both ends.

The dick in my mouth is removed and my friend starts kissing me and pushing his tongue into my mouth telling me what a good bitch I am and then grabs my hard dick and squeezes ; I’m going to come I cry. A fat dick pounds my sweet butt as I start squirting cum on the nightgown I’m not aware of much. The dick is in my mouth again. The man fucking my ass starts cumming and my ass is quivering as I continue sucking while squeezing my hard dick. I think getting filled up with cum caused me to cum for over a minute and then when I’m done my friend tells me to swallow, and squirts in my mouth this pushes me over the edge again as I jerk on my dick with cum dripping out of both ends of me.

I lay there in cum and fall asleep. When I wake i walk into the kitchen with dry cum on me and my friend starts kissing me and holds my ass and tells me the pipe is in the bathroom so I get clean. They are watching football when I get out of the shower I put on a jean mini skirt and panties with a silk t-shirt and take three big hits and walk into the tv room where I’m greeted with a great hug and kiss from two different men who are just smiling at me.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Look, there are a lot of reasons Eric and I broke up, but we both knew physical chemistry wasn’t one of them. We turned each other on like crazy. That’s why, despite vowing to move on and stop fucking up each other’s lives, I’m not surprised we ended up fucking each other again.

So I work in construction and to no one’s surprise the on site loo was broken- again. Now if you need to take a piss you can walk your way down 19 floors still being built or you can go through the whole humiliating rigamarole of getting Ryan, the site supe, to loan you the key to the public bathrooms in the office building next door- which are easier to get to, there’s a corridor and all, but something about needing to ask another guy if you can take a leak is fucking humiliating.

Alas. I needed to go and unlike some of the other boys on site I didn’t feel like pissing off the side of the building. For one thing I just knew I’d be caught- I had the worst luck like that. So I begrudgingly begged the key and waited for the lift in the office. I always felt uncomfortable in places like that. I felt half naked in my shorts and hi vis vest- and I really was just wearing the vest. It was blisteringly hot out there… I never noticed on site, all the other guys did it, but fuck this was inappropriate clothing. I shook my hair out as I waited, I always got headaches in my hard hat.

I tensed up as I heard the click of dress shoes behind me and automatically stepped back when the elevator opened. I felt kind of shitty following the poor guy into the lift. I must have reeked after all day moving tiles in the sun, but I didn’t have time to wait for the next one. I stood away from him, in the corner. I glanced at his shoes- shinier than any I’d ever owned. The guy probably hadn’t done a day’s hard labour in his life. But then again, he was probably a hell of a lot smarter than me.

Thankfully he was only going up a couple of flights. I would have run it but I was clearly a shit ton fitter than this lean dude- and I didn’t have a nice suit to wrinkle. I glanced at him as he left the elevator and felt myself grow red as he caught my eye and gave me the smuggest smile I’d ever seen. Oh fuck. That was Eric, my arsehole of an ex boyfriend. And he’d caught me at my worst, of course he had.

I knew he worked around here but I didn’t realise he worked in this building. I didn’t realise we were ever going to cross paths again, actually. And I didn’t think he would ever give me that smug fucking I’m better than you look again. I fucking hated that look. Well. Hate is a strong word. I actually really, really liked that look- Eric always had a way of turning me on, even when I was pissed as hell at him.

I couldn’t get the bastard out of my head. He hadn’t said hi, how’s it going. He hadn’t deigned to talk to me. Like I was so far below him. Which- well. That was why we broke up wasn’t it?

I saw him again on Friday. Me and the guys on site were drinking at the nearest bar- bit wanky for us, but there was a corner in the smokers section where we could play darts. I caught his eye across the room. He was with a bunch of suits, drinking cocktails. He looked me over and I blushed. I needed to wash my hair- it was a mess of curls and dreadlocks today. I’d torn my singlet and looked like a fucking tool with a giant rip in it. He probably liked the way my muscles bulged, he always did like my body. He raised an eyebrow at me as I caught him staring and inclined his head. Arsehole. I glanced around to make sure none of the guys had seen. He always hated that I wasn’t out on site but honestly- would you?

My phone buzzed a second later.

Bathroom. Now.

I almost laughed. I didn’t have to give into Eric’s whims anymore. I rolled my eyes and sipped my beer, but I could feel him staring at me.

Glaring at me. I raised my eyebrows at him. What the fuck was his problem? He grinned.

Now.

My phone buzzed again. I sighed. Fuck it. I stood up and headed in the direction of the bathroom, feeling his gaze on me the whole time.

3rd Stall.

I waited for him. I don’t know why. I always was soft on him. I looked at him as he entered the stall and locked the door behind him. He looked me over, undressing me with his eyes. He curled his lip.

“Cocktease.” He said. I clenched my fists.

“Me? How much money did you spend on getting that suit tailored to make your butt look like that?” He laughed.

“Missed you, Gus.” He grabbed me and pulled me in for a violent kiss. I was about a head shorter than him and he had to tilt my head up. I kissed him back, of course I did. But I also pulled away.

“Hey man what the fuck. You can’t just…” He had the decency to look a little ashamed but he didn’t let that stop him for long. He pulled me back into him and rubbed his hand on my crotch.

“I knew you’d be fucking hard for me. Kinda hard to tell sometimes.” He always teased me about my dick. A big, manly guy like you and you’re stuck with that little thing. That was the thing about Eric. He just knew how to get me off. Osmanbey travesti It wasn’t even that small- well it was but you know, I could still fuck with it and all- but he knew I loved it when he humiliated me. I groaned and pushed him away.

“Eric you fucking arsehole you can’t just… have me in pub bathrooms when you’re horny.”

“Why did you fucking come then?” His hands were all over me- it was easier to stop fighting and just give in. He unbuttoned my jeans and started playing with me through my briefs. “Briefs.” He muttered, disappointed. When we were together he liked me going commando. He also liked me in jocks. That didn’t really work on a construction site though- I may not have much down there but I still feel a little precious about it.

“Would you prefer panties?” I muttered, leaning into his touch in spite of myself. He laughed.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” He moaned as I undid his suit trousers. “Youre my manly fucking stud and I never want to hear a word of any of that fem stuff. You’re butch as hell Gus, just the way I like you.” He wrapped his hand around my dick. “Well bar this obviously.” I moaned again. Fine, we were doing this. I pulled away and Eric tried to get me to stay still.

“I’m trying to help you Eric.” I gently took his suit jacket off and hung it up, before taking my own singlet off and handing it to him.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the show.” He glanced appreciatively at my chest. “But what..”

“Wank us off into that.” I said, shuffling my briefs down. “Don’t want to mess up your suit.” Eric’s mouth fell open- that was a new one. The cunt was never speechless.

“But your shirt…” I rolled my eyes as I pulled him back into me.

“Yeah fucking irreplaceable right.” He groaned, wrapping the singlet around his hands and rubbing our dicks together.

“I love how fucking big I feel next to you.” He whispered. I moaned in his ear, pressing my head to his chest. He started cumming first and it set me off as well. We held each other, panting, refusing to look at each other. Eventually I stood up and pulled up my pants. I unfolded the singlet- oof. Lost cause. I’d tucked the hi vis vest into my back pockets so I put that on instead- I could always claim I’d caught the singlet on something else and unravelled it. I had that kind of bad luck. The guys found it endearing. I waited for Eric to straighten himself up, staring at the floor. Why on earth did I let him do this to me?

I marched out and back to my mates. I lit up a cigarette- he’d never liked that but he wasn’t my fucking boyfriend so I didn’t care. There was a bit of ribbing about my shirt but nothing I couldn’t handle. I didn’t look back at Eric all night.

—

I should have known that wasn’t the end of it. He was waiting for me after work one day. My stomach dropped as I saw him. He was leaning against a phone box with his arms folded- staring at me the way he does. I was with the lads, so I ignored him, suggesting a pint. They concurred and I tried to stay in the middle of the crowd, as though they could form a protective bubble around me. It didn’t matter- it was a weeknight so a couple of beers and we were done. I started to walk home and I noticed him right away. He was waiting for me. He fell in step beside me.

“Fuck off.” I said.

“Fuck you.” He said. “But actually fuck you. I need to. I’m coming over.” No he fucking wasn’t. I glared at him.

“We broke up.”

“I said I wanted to fuck you, not marry you.”

“I’m well aware you don’t want to marry me.” I muttered. His reluctance to commit to anything was one of the reasons we broke up in the first place. Eric said nothing. We walked in silence for a bit, I assumed he was biding his time to start fucking laying it on again and I was bracing myself for that.

“Not much point in a wedding where it’s just my family and friends though really is there?” He said eventually. “Kind of dumb to get married if they have to wheel you down the aisle in a fucking closet.” I felt myself snap and I whirled on him. I felt myself about to hit him but I unclenched my fists in time and breathed deeply.

“I kinda hoped breaking up meant we could stop fighting about this.” I said, starting to walk again. By now I realised he was coming home with me, like it or not. I made a quick detour into the natural wine store near my place. I have plenty of beer at home, but Eric prefers wine. I asked his opinion and bought it- fucking $40! I don’t think he realised it was for him, he was too busy thinking about something else.

“You… you didn’t hit me.” He said eventually. I shuddered. I didn’t know that was such an achievement.

“I’m trying this new thing called not being physically abusive.” I muttered.

“It’s not abuse if I like it.” He said. Eric did like it. He liked to be a dom, the superior man, the alpha- but the guy was a slut for pain. I grunted as I looked around my flat. Luckily no one was home. I’d had to move back in with some mates after our breakup. I just couldn’t find a solo place Ayrancı travesti I could afford.

I poured Eric a wine and grabbed myself some beer and sat at the kitchen table with him. My mind was reeling. Why was I here, serving him $40 wine? I’d told the cunt to move on. I needed to be clearer, obviously. He was looking around, deep in thought, when he noticed the bottle.

“You… just bought that for me?” I rolled my eyes.

“Na you know me, total wine snob… but I thought you should try it.” He bit his lip and I looked away quickly. Nothing good would come of that.

It was almost a relief when Chris got home. He looked at Eric with a goofy smile on his face, he’d been telling me for weeks to try and meet someone else- I shook my head.

“Chris, Eric. Eric, Chris.” Chris’ demeanour immediately changed. He had never met Eric- but he must have heard me complain enough about him by now. Eric stuck his hand out and Chris shook it in the limpest imitation of a handshake I’ve ever seen. I started to blush. Not a good look, buying fancy wine for the ex you’ve been moaning about for weeks. Eric could sense the tension. He knocked back the wine and went to leave.

“What I said earlier Gus. I need it ok.” He slammed the door behind him. Well dammit. Now I wasn’t gonna be able to stop thinking about him. Chris frowned at me and opened his mouth.

“I know!” I protested. “He followed me home!” Chris shook his head.

“He’s not a puppy dude! He’s your insane ex! You don’t invite insane ex’s over for drinks!” I glanced at the mostly full bottle. Wasted on me. I sighed- Chris was right. I pulled out my phone.

Blocked his number- should have already done that.

Blocked him on Facebook.

Blocked him on Insta.

Blocked him on Twitter.

Chris watched me approvingly.

“Step one finally done. Step two, you need to get laid. By someone, fuck, anyone else.” I sighed.

“Wanna be my wingman?” He frowned.

“Thought you could do it all through Grindr?” Oh yeah. I blushed. I’d never tried Grindr.

—-

Just a hole looking to get over my ex

Chris didn’t think it was a particularly good profile, it was mostly pictures of my arse, but Chris didn’t really get gay culture. I got loads of hot tops messaging me, making me feel really good about myself. I also got an annoying amount of U hung?

Uh … not really

Does it matter?

I’ll wear a fucking cock sleeve if you need to look at a big dick

Eventually I added a line to my profile.

Just a hole looking to get over my ex

Small dick but you won’t be using it

That sent them crazy. I had a dozen offers on the table right away… and Will was nearby. I glanced at Chris.

“Hey buddy…”

“What?”

“Uh… if I can host I can start step two in like ten minutes…” Chris rolled his eyes, but this was his idea so he got the hell out of the way. He texted the flat chat as well.

Suggest everyone stays clear of the apartment until Gus gives the all clear.

Man, I owed him. I quickly showered and tied my hair up. I did a half assed job on prepping- I didn’t have time to do much more than lube and plug myself. I got dressed in nice ish clothes- nice for me. And then I wondered if he would even show, after all that. He did though. He said hi, we started kissing. It felt good. He was softer than I was used to but I kind of needed that. I took him to my room and he threw me down on my bed- I liked that a lot. He looked at me hungrily.

“Hair down and shirt off.” I obliged him and noticed his gaze change as I pulled my shirt off.

“Fuck, you’re all muscle aren’t you?” He sounded… disappointed? I sighed.

“You wanted a twink?” Yeah. With my uh… demure height and my long hair and my little dick I could see where he went wrong. Still. A hole is a hole. I got up on my hands and knees and pulled my jeans down so my arse hung out. I arched my back and dropped my head, trying to pout at him. “Maybe not as femme as you hoped but I can be a real fucking slutty himbo if you want.” Will grinned. That’d do it. He liked the plug in my arse.

“For me?”

“Who else daddy?” I gambled on daddy. Good bet. He was all over me after that. Didn’t take long for him to strip down, muttering about what a sweet boy I was, gross. It was a good thing I had put the plug in, this guy had no idea how to properly prep my arsehole. He fingered me for all of a second before I felt him press in.

“That feels good doesn’t it baby.” He moaned.

“You’re so big, daddy.” It didn’t feel particularly good actually, but I could be honest about the fact he was hung. I hate hung guys who don’t know what they’re doing.

He was pretty quick, and fair enough, I’m a great lay. It felt… ok. I mean. Sex is sex and it had been way too long for me. Can’t say I was exactly planning on holding on to his number though. He lay on top of me after he came for a minute before pulling out. He turned me over and I realised he was going to jerk me off. Cebeci travesti

“Thanks Will, I’m good.” He growled, but he could growl as much as he liked… I’m not really one for hanging around after a hookup. “Hey daddy.” I tried. “It’s too much. You’re so good to me.” I leant into one of his arms and sighed, pretending his aimless thrusting had spent me, even if I didnt cum. Will stroked little circles on my back and started to lower himself on to my bed. Ugh, now I had a different problem. The guy wanted to cuddle. I fucking hated cuddling.

I let him. I let him for about 5 minutes and then I lied that my flat mates were coming home, and apologised for the timing. Will was pretty blissed out.

“Aw baby that’s ok. We’ll cuddle next time.” Like hell we would. He paused on the threshold. “Can’t wait for next time, baby. Wear some pretty panties for me.”

Abso-fucking-lutely not. I thought of Eric. Because no one ever really got me like Eric.

I texted the group chat telling them it was safe and jumped in the shower again.

Better? Chris asked.

Not worse. Was the best I could do.

—

I got a new follower on goodreads and they’d commented on one of my reviews. I blushed when I read the comment.

Cute Grindr account.

Trust Eric to find somewhere to humiliate me online, even after my blocking spree. I sighed. Ignore the whole thing. One day he had to give up- right?

I was clumsier on site than usual- and that was saying something. I got a fucking earful from the boss. All the usual stuff- I was worthless, I should be grateful, piece of shit like me didn’t deserve the time of day… I couldn’t help but zone out. I fantasised about walking off site right then, not for the first time. But he was wrong, I would screw the guys over if I left now. I knew I wasn’t worthless even if he didn’t.

I started blushing when I realised our little chat was so loud you could hear it from an open window in the other building. I wouldn’t have minded, except somehow, naturally, Eric was there. His mouth was in a tight frown. Fucker.

I had to stay late to make up for the reaming I’d received. When I finally managed to finish for the day it was dark. I grumbled to myself about the light, and the illegality of leaving one to work alone to save a dollar. Hm. Should check my pay slips too. I wasn’t convinced I was seeing all that overtime.

“Why do you let him speak to you like that?” I heard him growl before I saw him. I sighed.

“Do I need to get a restraining order?” Eric stepped out of the shadows.

“That’s going to make it really hard to fuck you.”

“Get the hint, psycho, I don’t want to fuck you.”

“I’ll buy you dinner first.” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Eric said. “Did you get anything good on Grindr?” I grunted. “Me either. We both need this Gus.”

“Like a hole in the head.” Eric laughed. I liked making him laugh. Still- not enough to fix what was broken between us. Unfortunately, even as my legs began to move, Eric was descending on me. He pulled me into a needy kiss and felt me up underneath my t-shirt. This was so bad. He had way too much say in this

“My place.” He demanded. I shook my head.

And I found myself half an hour later standing awkwardly in his house. He earned enough to find a decent place for himself. It was tastefully decorated in greens and wood and the place smelled like lather and sandalwood. Luckily I didn’t have to stand for long- he was all over me. He pulled my shirt off and wrestled me onto the couch, his hands digging into me.

“Oh my god.” He said slowly, looking concerned as he pulled away and paused. “You really don’t want this.” I was trembling. He’d read that wrong though. I reached up and pulled him back in.

“No dumbass. I really want this. But it’s a bad idea.”

“My specialty.” I sighed.

“You’re not wrong there.”

“Less talk. More you get those fucking trousers off and get on your knees.” Who was I to say no to such a charming request?

“Need a shower, Eric.” He opened his mouth and looked like he was going to argue, but he changed his mind when I raised my eyebrows pointedly. Sometimes he forgets that you have to do a little more groundwork to take dick. And I’d been on site all day in the fucking sun. He nodded curtly and showed me the bathroom.

I cleaned myself and looked around for some lube to help get me ready for him. I found some Vaseline, that would do, and I stretched myself out a bit. I didn’t bother to put on clothes. I returned to the lounge, where Eric was playing with his phone. He glanced up at me and his eyes hardened.

“You got hotter.” He said.

“You just got hornier.” I rolled my eyes and walked over to him. I got on my knees in front of him and he grabbed my throat.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me.” He said.

“You want someone who doesn’t talk back?” I choked on his grip as he tilted my face up. “Definitely with the wrong guy, Eric.” He grinned. He loved me talking back. Well, more than that I think he loved it when he fucked the backchat out of me. He nodded to his crotch and I reached to undo it, still choking under his grip. I freed his giant cock from his trousers and sighed. I hoped he didn’t feel like foreplay. I just wanted him to ram into me.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I didn’t get my threesome with Jake and Marcus after bedtime. It wasn’t that my cousin and his buddy didn’t recover themselves after the jerk-off we’d had before tea, it was just that by the time the three of us collapsed into Jake’s bed, we’d had so much fun with Uncle Rob that we were all just too bloody knackered!

It had started after I’d checked in with the folks back in Brisbane to let them know I was okay. I talked for a while with my mom over WhatsApp, with her chuckling all the time that I was starting to sound like such a pommy, before dad came on to throw in a few snide quips.

“It sounds like your Uncle Robert has all and sundry coming and going,” he’d sneered, hearing the chatter and laughter coming from the living room.

“Yeah, he had one of his friends to stay over last night and now Jake has a friend up from Surrey for a couple of days.”

“No females, I hope,” dad replied sharply. “There’d better not be anything untoward going on.”

“No, we’re a houseful of guys, dad,” I told him truthfully. I didn’t offer a comment on the ‘untoward’ part.

When I’d finished the call and was back in the living room having a beer poured for me, Jake came downstairs from having a pee.

“It fucking stinks up there!” he announced to the rooom with all his usual decorum. “You can still smell our arses from where we were frigging each other’s fudgers off!”

“Don’t be so crude, Jake,” my uncle told him.

“You really can smell it though… I’m not saying it’s a bad thing!”

Now Uncle Rob allowed himself a chuckle. “You boys were a little odorous when we were anally masturbating together!”

Marcus laughed too. “It was really hot, though, wasn’t it? Fingering each other and smelling each other’s butts!”

“The funny thing is,” Uncle Rob nodded, “I could tell exactly which smells were wafting from between which of your legs. Your three hairy little openings each have very distinctive aromas.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the way my uncle spoke. The way he could say such vulgar things in that posh English accent of his, but also the way his attitude to sex and bodily stuff was so at odds with my dad’s.

Jake laughed too but his amusement was borne from his dirty imagination. “We should make that into a game!” he suggested. “You get blindfolded, dad, and then you sniff one of our arses and try and figure out who it belongs to!”

Marcus and I grinned over at each other – that was a ripper idea for a game. Uncle Rob, though, while clearly interested in the concept, wanted to clarify the practicalities.

“I’d be kneeling down, would I, and the young man offering his bottom would be bending forwards in front of me?”

“Hands on knees,” Jake nodded. “Crack open a bit but not too splayed.”

“And there’d be no flatulence of course,” his dad was keen to establish.

“Absolutely not,” Jake agreed. “The only clue you’d get would be the smell of the hot juicy gape.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it through your jeans,” Uncle Rob added, smiling at the three of us. “Though I think I’d have a good chance of figuring out who was who from the whiff of the backs of your underwear.”

“You’d get ten points if you could manage that,” Marcus declared. “But only five if you need us to pull our boxers down and sniff our bare bums!”

“Yeah, and if you need to stick your nose into our cack-cracks, you’d get only three!” Jake decided.

“And if I need a lick of the cherry, would that be just one point?” Uncle Rob asked.

The three of us laughed. We thought he was joking.

While Jake fetched one of his ties to use as a blindfold, I told my uncle, “If you can get to fifteen points after three goes, I’ll be really impressed!”

“I think I’ll be able to manage twenty,” he grinned. “One ten and two fives. Jake’s backside has a characteristically pungent bite to it which I’ll be able to smell quite easily through his underpants. With you and Marcus, I’ll probably need you to present your bare bums to my nose if I’m to figure out which is which.”

“You’d think Jake and Shane’s butts would have similar smells,” Marcus said. “You know, with them being cousins…”

“Yes, that’s true,” Uncle Rob nodded. “But earlier on, when both of your openings were just starting to be masturbated, I found your anal scents quite difficult to separate. Marcus, however, emerged as having a much meatier flavour once Jake’s fingers were pumping in and out at full speed!”

Marcus chortled. “Yeah, well I’m not surprised about that! There’s plenty of meat been packed in back there!”

I laughed too but I was really intrigued – and quite excited as well – to find out how sensitive Uncle Rob’s nose would be when poised in front of each of our butts.

Once my uncle had been blindfolded, Jake volunteered by mime that his arse should go first.

He pulled his jeans down, bent forwards a bit and offered the twin mounds straining the back of his dark grey ‘Next’ boxer briefs up to Uncle Rob’s face. Marcus and I smirked together on seeing Jake’s Bornova travesti arse so close his dad’s nose and mouth and Marcus nudged me to gesture at the semi-hard-on pushing the crotch of Jake’s shorts prominently outwards. My cousin sure hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he recovered his horniness quickly after a spunk-off!

Uncle Rob sniffed at his son’s two round buttocks in his underwear, before moving in closer to get a stronger whiff behind the deep, narrow valley running down between them.

Then he smiled and announced, “This is a rather fruity vintage… a little crass but with a satisfyingly piquant bite! I would wager this rump as belonging to Mr Jacob Richard Furlong!”

We all laughed and announced that Uncle Rob had started off with a clean-sweep ten, as Jake bent down to pull his jeans back up. While Marcus was asking my uncle what it was about his son’s bum that made it so easy to identify, I stopped Jake from buttoning himself up and quietly suggested something that might confuse even his dad’s discerning nose.

“The front pocket of my rucksack’s got my dirty laundry in it,” I whispered to him. “Find the skankiest pair of my daks and put those on… see if your dad can still figure out whose arse he’s sniffin’!”

Jake grinned, “Fuck yeah!” and headed upstairs to change his dirty undies with mine.

Meanwhile, Marcus was pulling his jeans down and bending forwards to push the backs of his stripy boxer-trunks towards my Uncle Rob’s eager blindfolded face.

“Ooh, this is very different,” Uncle Rob announced after taking a few deep sniffs of the crack between Marcus’ bum-cheeks. “There’s a rich, juicy impudence to it and some rather delicious barnyard undertones. It could belong to my nephew or my son’s favourite friend… I’d need to smell it in the flesh, though, to figure out which…”

I chuckled, “Okay, five points max on this one!” as Marcus pulled down his shorts. His cock sprung outwards, half-hard and steadily rising upwards. Like Jake he clearly enjoyed having the older man sniffing his butt.

Uncle Rob inhaled deeply just an inch from Marcus’ bare crack and murmured appreciatively at how much he liked it. “It’s got a real oakiness to it… a lovely crisp harshness…”

I glanced down at my uncle’s trousers and smiled at how a patch of material next to his zipper was being pushed steadily upwards. As I watched, the shape of my uncle’s hardening cock grew more obvious until the thick rod of it was clearly visible running diagonally up towards the left pocket. Soon the ridge around his helmet was pressing conspicuously outwards making the big, blunt head of his cock rise up blatantly even through his briefs and trousers.

“You’re really enjoying this, Uncle Rob!” I laughed.

“I certainly am!” he sighed, inhaling Marcus’ butt odour as deeply as he could. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to reduce my score to a maximum of three…”

His pushed his face into Marcus’ arse-crack and snorted hungrily at the odours lurking among his damp, wiry hair. Marcus’ cock stood up at full mongrel between his legs, and a dark circular damp patch formed on Uncle Rob’s trousers where his swollen helmet was leaking copiously.

“Oh yeah!” he gasped with his nose and mouth wedged firmly in the tight grip of Marcus’ solid buttocks. “This is a much more elegant vintage… evocative of warm summer Surrey evenings…”

“That’s amazing, Mr Furlong!” Marcus chuckled, pulling his arse away from my uncle’s face and leaving some of curly blond butt-hairs clinging to his nose. He swung around to offer further congratulations and accidentally smacked the full length of his hard chopper across Uncle Rob’s face.

“Gee, sorry, Mr Furlong! You were closer than I thought…”

“That’s fine,” Uncle Rob smiled, his blindfold still secure. “I’m pleased the game is having the same effect on you as it’s had on me!”

Marcus laughed at how my uncle’s large erection was tenting his trousers upwards and making a spreading damp patch between his zipper and left pocket. He started talking to him about why he thought bum smells could be so arousing, just as Jake crept back into the room wearing the dirty boxers I’d had on when I’d flown over from Oz.

“Oh fuck, not that pair!” I whispered.

“They were easily the whiffiest,” he grinned. “By a pretty long margin!”

“I bet they were… they were riding up my arse-crack all the way from Sydney to Heathrow!”

He bent over again in front of his dad and, while Uncle Rob was clearly expecting that the third butt to sniff would logically be mine, he was quickly confused by the combination of his son’s crack odour and the back of my smelly shorts.

He sniffed a few times, getting his nose quite close to the crumpled material, before announcing, “This is very strange… I really can’t place the smell! You haven’t sneaked a fourth young man in here for me to sniff his bum, have you?”

We chuckled and Marcus said, “The arse definitely belongs to one of us!”

Uncle Rob Buca travesti shrugged and conceded, “I’ll have to go for a five maximum, in that case. I’m going to be lucky to reach fifteen at this rate…”

Jake pushed the back of my cruddy shorts into his arse-crack and took a moment to rub the material up and down against his butt-hair. Having got my bummy odour smeared inside his furry gully, he pulled the shorts down to present his chunky bare cheeks to his dad’s blindfolded face.

Uncle Rob inhaled deeply the pudgy backside before him and said, “This really is strange… there’s the full-bodied juiciness of Shane’s modestly-puckered hole coupled with the astringent harshness of Jake’s much larger anus. I’m going to need to go for a three…”

He pushed his face in between his son’s round buns and snorted like a pig with its snout in the trough.

“Aw yeah!” Jake mouthed, grinning broadly at me and Marcus as his dad’s nose pushed as deep as it could into his hot ripe crack. My cousin’s cock rose upwards rapidly, making the mouth of his foreskin slide open to reveal its glistening red tip, and he leaned further forwards to open his big puffy bunghole right in front of his dad’s curious face.

“I’m sure it’s Shane,” Uncle Rob mumbled, his voice muffled between his son’s squat, dumpy buttocks. “I’m going to have to go for a one…”

Before we could stop him, we heard a wet munching sound from between Jake’s cheeks as my uncle’s tongue start licking at his son’s over-sized opening. Jake turned to us, his gaping mouth half-shocked half-amused, as Marcus and I stared disbelievingly at his dad crouching behind him feeding noisily on his arse.

Just then Jake pulled away shouting, “Whoa… dad, it’s me!”

Uncle Rob reeled back, red-faced and breathless, and he removed the blindfold to see his son’s solid round buttocks with his spit smeared two-thirds down the crack. He stared up at us, at first towards Marcus and then across to me. Then, to my surprise, his mouth broke into a smile and he chuckled, “Looks like I lost that round…”

“Oh my God!” Jake laughed, “you just brown-tongued my butt, dad!” I noticed his cock was now arching up on full-throb from the feel of his dad’s mouth slurping at his ringpiece.

Uncle Rob stood up too and his own large erection pushed his trousers outwards, the blunt tip of which was seeping with a sticky patch of drool.

“Jake’s wearing my dirty undies, Uncle Rob,” I explained. “He put them on to… er… throw you off the scent…”

“Well, you certainly did that,” my uncle chortled. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the excess of his cock slobber off the prominent helmet shape lifting the front of his trousers.

“Still, no harm done,” he went on, as Marcus and I sat back down, swigging from our beers again, and Jake went upstairs to pull his own boxers back on and recover his jeans. “That’s a part of my son I really would have preferred not to push my tongue into, but the game was fun and I was greatly enjoying it!”

As he poured himself another glass of wine, Marcus asked, “Should we think up something else to play?”

“Why not?” Uncle Rob smiled, sitting himself down and adjusting his big hard-on so that it was more comfortable in his briefs. “But I think it wise to ensure that such errors of judgement can’t happen again.”

“I like smell games,” I said. Then, remembering something Uncle Rob had told me when we’d been out for the day, added, “My uncle reckons that when there’s sex going on in Jake’s bedroom, he can figure out from the smell who’s doing who!”

“Oh wow!” Marcus chortled. “So when I’m staying over, you know which way round me and Jake are banging each other?”

“It’s quite easy,” Uncle Rob grinned over, taking a sip from his drink. “No doubt even easier now that I’ve lapped at the source, as it were.”

As Jake came back into the room and grabbed himself another beer, I suggested, “Okay, here’s an idea for a game… the three of us go into Jake’s bedroom and do some stuff together, and Uncle Rob has to work out who’s doing what…”

“What sorta stuff?” Jake asked, looking unimpressed.

“I dunno… two of us fuck, maybe, while the other one watches and jerks off. Your dad has to figure out from the smell of the butt and the bell-end, whose arse is gettin’ bummed and who’s standin’ wankin’ himself off!”

The three of them stared at me and for a moment I thought I’d overstepped the mark.

But then Jake’s mouth broadened into a gaping, eager smirk and Marcus called out, “Oh my God! That sounds so hot!”

I looked at Uncle Rob and he chuckled at me. “You’ve got such a naughty imagination, Shane. What would your father say?”

We all bounded upstairs and the three of us lads assembled in Jake’s bedroom while Uncle Rob lurked with his wineglass in the hallway outside.

“Okay, let’s make the first one easy for him,” Jake whispered to us. “You do me up the arse,” he said to Marcus, “and you stand next to the bed and jerk your prick Konak travesti off,” he said to me. “He sat next to you when we wanked off earlier so he knows the smell of your bell-batter… and we’re all well aware of how intimately he knows the smell of my bunghole now!”

Marcus and I chuckled and he unzipped his jeans and hitched the front of them down a bit. His eight inch hard-on sprung upwards when released from his underwear. He was clearly greatly looking forwards to pushing it up his favourite fuck-buddy’s bum, perhaps even more excited that I was going to watch him doing it and Uncle Rob was going to smell its effects.

While he lubed himself up, I pulled out my own larger cock which rose outwards, also nearly fully chubbed-up, and Marcus smirked across at me and said quietly, “I so wanna slam your tight Brissy butt too, Shane!”

I grinned back at him, wanting to kneel down in front of him and get things started between us by sucking on his lovely mushroom helmet, but Jake called over, “Cut it out, lovebirds – we’ve got a challenge to set for dad!”

He got on his bed and pulled the backs of jeans and underwear down so that his uni friend could work his dick up his hole, when I noticed that he was still wearing the dirty boxers he’d taken from my rucksack.

“Hey Jake,” I called out, “I thought you’d got back into your own undies, cuz.”

“Naah, I thought I’d keep these as a little momento… and I pushed my pair into your rucksack so you can take a little bit of Jakey back to Aussieland with you just for… you know… the long, lonely nights!”

I laughed like I just thought he was just being a dorf, but I knew that back home I probably would wank off sniffing the boxers Jake had given me. I’d want to relive all the stuff I was now doing and it would really spruce things up to have Jake’s crack-stink pressed into my nose.

“Aw, that’s so sweet you guys,” Marcus chortled, getting on the bed behind Jake and pushing his knees between his.

He pressed the slippery head of his dick into his buddy’s arse-crack, still wet with his dad’s spit, and Jake muttered, “Lower, dude… yeah, still a bit lower…” and then gasped with a laugh, “Aw yeah! Now push it right up!”

Marcus chuckled as he slid the length of his shaft up his lover’s butt, grabbing him by the hips to drive the last inch of it through the huge, swollen anus. Once his bollocks were pushing into the crease under Jake’s buttocks and his pubes were tickling the fuzzy softness around his crack, my cousin swung his head around and grinned at his blond friend, and then they leaned forwards together to share a lingering kiss.

As they necked for a bit, murmuring and giggling together as their two bodies were fused together, I wondered how they’d first discovered how much they enjoyed sex together in spite of them both being into girls. Perhaps some drunken fooling around together in their digs at uni lead to boxers being groped and then cocks getting sucked. Or maybe Marcus had told Jake about the stuff he’d done at school with Kiernan and they’d agreed, as casually as two mates setting up a night out, to play around with each other when their girlfriends weren’t about.

“Okay,” Jake whispered when they’d finished their little smooch. “Fuck me dead hard so it really makes a stink… and, Shane, you wank your dick off and waft your bulb towards the door so my dad can smell it!”

Marcus pushed Jake’s back lower, grabbed him hard by both shoulders and started rooting his arse as roughly as he could. The strong smell of male bumming quickly filled the air of Jake’s bedroom and my cock swelled upwards at how crude and sexy it stunk. I directed by cock towards the door and started jerking my foreskin back and forth across the slimy head, hoping the sharp muskiness of my dick would have a chance of competing with the raw pungence of Jake’s butt-fucked arse.

“Oh, that’s too easy,” Uncle Rob laughed from outside Jake’s bedroom door. “I’d hoped you boys would set me more of a challenge!”

“Come on, then,” Jake called out to his dad from where he was bent over with his face just above his pillow. “Who’s getting his butt paddled… and who’s bashing his prick off at how awesome it looks!”

“I’d recognise the smell of my son’s rump being mounted without any difficulty,” my uncle said, “and that was before I’d had my face buried into it!”

“Nice one,” Jake chuckled. “A solid ten points to open with…”

“As for the masturbator… the head of his penis is contributing quite sharply to the scent, but it’s not too strong and only delicately cheesy… so I’m guessing that my nephew is the one who’s standing ‘purving’, to use his own antipodean term!”

“Get in there!” Jake called out, as if he was watching his team score a goal on the telly. “Twenty points for starters… okay, let’s up the ante a bit…”

He and Marcus disentangled themselves and Marcus used a few tissues to clean off his dick. Dude sex could be very messy, I noticed, and I was sure that sex with girls would never produce this level of gunge or stink. But I had to agree with what Jake had told me early on in our exploits: the strong, bawdy smell of boys doing it up the butt with each other wasn’t in any way disgusting or a turn-off, but was instead a serious part of its appeal.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I have a stressful job. Don’t get me wrong, I know others do too, but mine is especially chaotic on a daily basis. While some would seek some stress relief in a healthy sexual life with their spouse or partner, that’s not really an option for me due to building health concerns with my wife. Sure, she tries at times, but it’s really a poor, weak and largely unsatisfying effort.

I find some solace in online fantasy play, videos, browsing personals and ads and even reading erotic stories. To put it mildly and sound like a bad cliché’, never did I ever, in my wildest dreams, think I could experience one of “those” stories.

But I did.

There’s a cleaning crew that comes in, usually mid-afternoon, to take care of the offices and bathrooms. Two twenty-something guys, the first, David, is a solidly built ginger-headed guy, the second, Sean, is a tall, lean, black-haired kid with multiple visible tattoos on his arms and neck. It’s Sean that I see all the time, usually with his iPod earphones in, rocking out while he does his daily cleaning. Usually, a passing nod, a spoken “hey” and I’m gone, dragging out of the door after 7 PM while he finishes.

Usually, but not this time.

It was a Monday, my day had started at 6:15 AM and by 5:00 PM, I had literally hit the wall. Schedule changes, personnel problems, quality issues, power blackouts due to the rain outside. You name it, and I had to deal with it that Monday and 7 o’clock couldn’t come fast enough for me.

I stepped outside about 5:15 to check the weather. It was gently raining and while I slowly relaxed to the constant patter of the rain, I could also hear low voices coming from around the corner. I stuck my head around the wall and saw the janitors huddled together, and David was stubbing out a cigarette against the brick. Sean looked up at me and nodded and I nodded back, then retreated to my doorway. Before going back in, I stretched against the wall, hearing my shoulders pop, rolled my neck to loosen up some of the tension tightness and then headed back down the steps inside the building. The air outside felt good and cleared some of the cobwebs, but I still had a little time to go and the more I stayed out there, the less I would want to go back in. Duty called.

Back inside and begin a 2 hour surge of activity till time to go home. But wait, in my need to experience the rain, I forgot to take care of another urge brought on by mother nature, so I stopped into the bathroom to empty out what was 3 cups of coffee from earlier in the afternoon. As I finished up, shook and was about to zip up, I heard the rolling of the cart outside in the hallway, indicating that Sean was getting ready to clean this bathroom. I’m not sure why, but for some reason, I delayed zipping until I saw the door opening.

So here I am, Levis unzipped, belt unbuckled, green boxer briefs visible, as was a good sized lump that I was tucking into the jeans and facing the doorway as Sean came through it. Quite the picture, eh? His eyes didn’t avert, as most of ours would in that situation, but instead, he zeroed in with a hungry stare and then looked at my face and grinned while I finished zipping, snapping and buckling.

“I’ll be out of your way in a second” I told him.

“No problem, man, take your time” he replied.

I turned to the sink and washed my hands, grabbed a paper towel to dry them and tossed it in the can as I headed out the door past Sean.

“All yours” I joked, and as I passed through the door, I could feel his stare on my back as I left.

Again, not sure why I deliberately exposed myself to him, but it actually lifted my spirits a bit to see the effect it had on him. Flattering actually. The next 90 minutes passed fairly quickly as I prepared for the Esat travesti next shift to come in. I noticed him passing my office at least twice while I worked on emails and spreadsheets.

I kept zooming back to Sean’s eyes, the hunger and lust that flashed across them. I’m certain I’ve read him correctly, but not sure what else I could do. The tease was a momentary chance and after all, this was my place of employment, not the best of all possible spots to be looking for a hookup. Regardless, the whole scenario was extremely arousing and I could sense the tightness in my jeans building the more I thought about it.

Finally, time to go had arrived, I passed on what was needed to the night shift, gathered my coffee mug, cell phone and iPod and headed upstairs to go out the door. With my headphones in, listening to the Silversun Pickups, I climbed the stairs and through the door, saw the door open to the janitor’s supply closet. Sean was in there, fiddling with something as I stepped through. He looked up, then down, well not all the way down, but his eyes stopped at my waist and I saw the same look in them that I had a while ago. At that point, I made a decision.

“What ya listening to?” I asked, popping my earphones out and stepping into the oversized closet.

“Silversun Pickups” Sean replied

“Same here” I said, “Great minds must think alike”

At that point, I eased the door shut behind me and took a step in his direction. Sean’s eyes narrowed a bit and his gaze dropped again to my waist.

“Can you guess what I’m thinking right now?” he asked, dropping to his knees in front of me. “I saw something earlier that I’d like to see more of”

“That’s uncanny” I mumbled, “I was hoping you were thinking that way”

Sean’s eyes never wavered from my crotch as he reached out, unbuckled the belt, then my jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down, peeling the denim back like the skin of a banana, revealing again, the green shorts that were the last layer covering the prize he was seeking. Sean leaned forward and buried his face into the shorts. I could feel the moist heat of his breath, ragged and getting more urgent. I could also feel my rapidly hardening cock starting to push against his mouth, separated only by the thin layer of cotton.

I grabbed his head and pressed his face harder into my cock, desperate to feel the softness of his lips but still wanting to tease just a bit. He opened his mouth a bit and ran his teeth along the length, gently nipping and causing a slight spasm that I felt all through my body. I exhaled a huge breath and released his head.

“What do you want, Sean?”

“Whatever you have, man”

And with that, he reached up with both hands and pulled the belt, jeans and the shorts down in one motion, springing my cock free from the shorts and slinging a string of precum from the head across his nose and mouth. I tend to ooze quite a bit when aroused and this moment was providing a steady drool of sweet nectar that he greedily lapped from his lips and followed the string to my cock, engulfing just the head, his tongue prodding at the slit while his lips surrounded the glans and began building up suction.

I closed my eyes and groaned, unable to remember the last time my cock had been attacked in this manner and not wanting it to end. Sean continued to work just the head, milking more precum, which by this point was practically flowing.

With an audible “pop” he released my cock from his mouth and smiled up at me. “How long has it been?”

“Too damn long” I said “but for a mouth with skills like that, a day would be too long”

Sean grinned and went back to work, catching a large drop just coming out of the tip. His hands gripped my ass cheeks Kızılay travesti as he began pulling more and more of my cock into his velvety throat. I gently moved my hips forward and back, not really thrusting but more matching his movements along its length. It was obvious to me he enjoyed what he was doing and from this day forward, I felt an obligation to give him as much opportunity as he liked.

I looked down at one point, and realized he still had his earphones in and was matching his movements to the pace and rhythm of the song he was listening to. I knew the song too and started keeping time with him as well. When that song ended, another, slightly slower one came on and he slowed his pace down to match. Minutes passed by and I closed my eyes to enjoy the feelings and sounds of this young stud who was clearly enjoying himself to my benefit.

I opened them at one point and watched his expert mouth completely engulf my cock to the base, his nose pressed into my pubes, feeling his breath from his nostrils. His breathing was picking up and I could hear the song change to a faster, speed-metal tempo and Sean began moving in time with the music. I could feel deep within me, a stirring, a need, the beginnings of an orgasm that had nothing to do with my own hands this time, but the skilled and enthusiastic mouth and tongue of this willing cock worshiper kneeling in front of me.

My hips began thrusting faster and I reached back around his head and began to guide him up and down on my cock, controlling the pace but still in time with the song. I felt Sean relax and let me drive, and drive I did. In and out of his mouth, from the tip of the head and plunging back down to the hilt, his marvelous throat conforming to the shape and curve and length of my cock which was nearing the point of no return.

Any good cocksucker can tell you they know when the time comes. Sean was definitely a good one, well, more of a great one and when he sensed that I was close, he reached out with one hand and cupped my balls, even as they drew up alongside my cock and with the other hand he reached around my left cheek and skillfully found the hole and with a moistened finger, penetrated me immediately to the prostate, applying pressure as I began to cum.

The first gush happened while he had my entire cock down his throat and as I continued; he slowly pulled off as burst after burst of cum jetted into him. His long index finger pressed into my ass and I could feel my knees buckle at the wave of sensations I was feeling.

Finally, he pulled his finger out of me and left only my cockhead at the opening of his mouth, cum still oozing from the slit and onto his outstretched tongue. His other hand gently caressed my slowly descending balls and then stroked outward on my cock, pulling more dribbles of cum out to his waiting mouth. Then, he dove back down the length and bobbed up and back, continuing to milk every drop from me.

Ordinarily, after I’ve fired off like that, my cock is so sensitive that the last thing I want is someone continuing to work me over, but tonight, not the case. Any softening that had occurred after I shot off was gone. I was as steely hard as I had been moments before I volleyed into his throat with the first shot of what had to have been 6 or 7 large bursts. I felt like there was no way I had anything left, yet the ministrations of his mouth were beginning to tell me otherwise.

I looked down and could see him working his own cock over with one hand. I stared at the slender but long cock, glistening with saliva and my cum as his long fingers skimmed up and down the length. The flared head was bright red compared to the color of the shaft and I knew he was close to cumming himself. I focused on his hand Alsancak travesti and cock while he continued to suck my cock like it was the first time, not the second. I didn’t know how long this would take and hoped he was as patient as he was skilled.

His stroking slowed down on his own cock, and began to match the pace of the sucking on mine. From a sexual standpoint, it was as erotic a sight and sensation as I think I’ve ever experienced. I continued to watch him expertly worship my cock, a hand fondling my balls and occasionally moving to my hole, along the perineum, causing a thrill each time, while his other hand took care of his own needs.

Involuntarily, I shuddered and moaned after one stroke. Sean glanced up and met my eyes and then went back to it. The sight of his black hair moving up and down, exposing and engulfing my shaft, the glistening of the saliva and then looking past that to see his own swelling organ, nearing his own orgasm, it was overwhelming and I completely surrendered to the feelings that he was causing in me.

Again, Sean sensed my nearness and his hand moved to my ass and to the prostate. I didn’t mind the invasion, knowing the enhancement to the indescribable pleasure I was already feeling. His cock was twitching below as he focused on my building orgasm, coaxing another series of volleys from my loins and into his greedily waiting mouth. While not near the volume from the time before, I swear the sensations were even more intense as his tongue, teeth and lips flew over my cock, his right hand massaged my swelling balls and his left continued to exert pressure on my prostate, almost willing additional jets of fluid from me.

Slowly, I could feel the pressure subside and my cock begin to soften in his mouth. He released me and stood, grasping his own still swollen cock with his left hand, saliva and cum dripping from my cock and into his hand to lubricate his motion. Minutes passed and my breathing slowed and then picked back up as I realized he was nearing his own finale and he was using my fluids to do so. This after he had swallowed who knows how much of my seminal fluid without a thought to his own completion. Now, with me completely spent, he focused on himself, me a willing spectator.

His cock was lovely, I had to admit, so different from my own. Mine was not overly long, maybe a generous 7 or more, but the claim to fame had always been it’s girth, well over 6-1/2 inches, I used to joke that you couldn’t wrap a dollar bill completely around it. Sean’s cock was easily 9 inches or so, but slender, making it look even longer. The large head flared from the delicate shaft looking like some tall mushroom and right now, its color had resumed the deep reddish tone I’d seen earlier.

Sean’s own breathing was becoming shallow and I knew he was close so I leaned in to watch and to feel this stud as he finally cut loose. Cut loose he did too, cum spurting from the head like a fire house at a 3 alarm fire. The first shot arched in the air, barely missing my sleeve, but the next he aimed squarely at my cock and proceeded to cover it with his own spunk with shot after shot until he finally gave out.

Sean grinned and looked at what he’d done, “Guess I’ll have to clean that up, won’t I?” he said to me.

“Guess so” I answered, and then watched as he dove back onto my cock, tongue flying around and then taking the semi-hard length back into his mouth to finish the cleanup.

Even this was starting to stir me back up and I knew that a third time was almost asking too much of my 40-something body. Not that I cared how much this would wear me out. This was absolutely the best blowjob, or blowjobs that I’d ever had in my life and I damn sure didn’t want it to stop too soon. I could see Sean’s cock twitching and starting to harden again and I knew he was enjoying this as much as I was. How fortunate to find someone who gets off on giving pleasure that much. Lucky me!

So I leaned back and let the young man have his fun, because that just the way I am.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

+-{Emerson & the Lion}-+

+-{Chapter 11}-+

“Why are we here, my love? There are juice places closer to home and it is 115 degrees outside by your temperature,” Ali signed in swift, fluid motion as though he’d spoken through his fingers all his life. He was following me up a side street as I led him to the juice bar.

“You forgot?” I signed back to him with a sigh. His phone was glowing with text messages in his hand, but he couldn’t turn away from the disappointment in my eyes. “We met here.”

“Two years ago today,” Ali interrupted and finished my thought as he awakened to the memory. “I know, my love, this is where you met me. I met you earlier when I saw the video of your dancing and then watched over you as you came to Satra. I fell in love with you before I bought you juice. I knew before you met me that you would be mine for life.”

“Nice save,” I joked. I thought back to that day when the juice guy was so mean to me and I had no idea how any of this worked. I had no way to communicate with him beyond pointing.

+++ +++

It was hard to sleep that night. Ali had taken me for a nice dinner and the next morning we were taking the early flight to London and then another one on to New York City. I’d never been there. Ali had business and Samir and Caleb were coming to stay with us there for a week.

I hadn’t been back to the U.S. since I’d left it over two years ago. I’d gotten used to the scorching heat of life in the desert, along with the sights and smells of Arab life. Ali kept asking if I was excited to be going home, but I pointed out that I’d never been to New York and it was still very far from California.

“Do you want to extend our trip and spend a few days in California and see your home place?” He asked me last night.

“No,” I signed sadly. “I don’t have a family. What would I go back and see?”

“Your family is here. You belong with us. This is your home, my sweet Emi,” Ali signed and hugged me.

We made it to the airport on time and were quickly ushered around the security lines and into the first class section. It was one of those two story airplanes with a bar upstairs and our seats were in a private lounge area that had a few plants separating the private areas. I tried to move one just to see if it would slide around when the airplane took off, but it was secured to the floor.

“My baby gets into trouble,” Ali signed. He shook his head disapprovingly, but laughed.

We curled up in adjoining leather seats that reclined flat and the steward brought us a large blanket with the Satra Air logo plastered across the front. It was new and fresh out of a bag. Ali went to the bar and got a drink for himself and some juice for me. By the time the plane took off, I was already half asleep with my head in his lap as he checked business emails on his tablet. He held me tightly with one arm until the plane leveled off in the air.

I didn’t see much of London. I was waking up in his lap when the plane touched down. Ali had fallen asleep sitting up against the pillows that lined the wall. All we did was walk around the lounge to stretch our legs as people got off and new people got on.

We had lunch somewhere over the Atlantic. Ali had them specially make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just for me along with a tray of sliced vegetables. By the time we landed in New York, I was ready to run a mile and breathe some non-airplane air.

They split us up at immigration. Ali wasn’t a resident of the U.S. He tried to explain that I was deaf and needed to stay with him, but that just seemed to raise alarms with the lady directing the line. She pushed a button on the radio strapped to her collar and soon there was someone there signing that I needed to come with him for special processing. Ali was furious, but he knew his name, wealth, and position had no power here.

“It is your country, they will not hurt you. I’ll wait for you at the exit, my love,” Ali signed.

The interpreter agent understood his signing, and I caught him giving a look of disgust. He pointed for me to follow him.

It was so strange to me to be in a place where Ali was not in control. In his country he was the lion. He roared and people scurried. Here he was just another foreigner who had to go through separate checkpoints than citizens.

I had to wheel the suitcases that were mine and follow him to a small room. Another agent came into the room and the interpreter translated for him. He went through everything. He asked me about everything from my toothpaste to my tablet computer. He asked why I had been out of the country for so long and how I had received a resident visa from Satra when I went there as a student.

“Your paperwork shows that this family adopted you. And now you’re bringing them here? Are they planning to stay permanently?” he asked.

“No, he is a very powerful man there. He is only here for a business trip and brought me with him,” I signed back.

“His visa does Kadıköy travesti not say business. He is here as a tourist. He listed no business contacts here in New York. Are you here of your own free will?” the agent asked.

“Yes of course! He’s my… boyfriend. We are in love. I guess he listed us as tourists because we are going to see the sights here once his business is done,” I assured. That was the wrong thing to say. The agent kept insisting I’d been somehow duped by some kind of sex-trade organization or immigration scheme.

He went on and on telling me they could help me get away from him if I’d testify. I kept insisting that we were a couple and in love, and then he started to ask about terrorist connections. He kept leaving the room for periods of time and I was left with the translator who didn’t seem to want anything to do with me.

I started crying. I didn’t want to, but they kept telling me I was being stupid, taken advantage of, etc…

Finally, after the agent had gone away for a long period, another agent came in. It was a lady this time, and she simply told the translator to tell me to pack up and exit through the green door. It ended so abruptly, but I hurriedly threw everything back into my bags and took off before they could change their minds.

I wiped the tears off with my sleeve as I pushed through the door and saw Ali pacing and talking on his phone. He saw me and hung up quickly.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of. They think scary brown man with his purchased golden boy. It is why I don’t come here often. I am so sorry, my sweet Emi,” Ali signed and fumed.

“I want to go please,” I signed back, not wanting to discuss it. He nodded, took my bags, and loaded them onto a cart with his.

“I’m sorry, my love. I could not protect you from that. I hope the rest of our trip is better,” Ali signed when we were secured in the back of a black town car and cruising onto a crowded freeway wedged between dirty and crumbling old buildings. It was a stark contrast from the new and shiny city we’d left on the other side of the world.

Caleb and Samir were waiting in the hotel suite when we got there an hour later. It was a hulking old tower that New York seemed to be overstuffed with. The suite had a large living room, large dining table, and a bar stocked with liquor I’d never be able to touch. There was a terrace with tables and plants that looked out over the city. Two bedrooms flanked the living area, and the guy carrying our bags put them away in the larger one.

Caleb hugged me for the longest time. We hadn’t seen each other in months since he’d talked Samir into opening an office in Los Angeles. He wasn’t cut out for the quiet desert houseboy life. He and Samir had been on a relationship roller coaster for weeks before they left. Caleb missed his family, friends, and California. Samir was helpless and followed his heart.

Samir hugged me next as Ali went to make phone calls. He was going to make a big deal with the embassy over my airport misadventure. I filled Caleb in on what had happened and he translated for Samir. Caleb said I should sue, but Samir said that the world had recently gone through events where Arabs didn’t look so good. He seemed to understand.

“I didn’t know about that,” I said when Samir told me what had been going on. “I guess I should read the news more than once a year.”

Caleb shrugged. “Well, enough of that! We are going to do New York right,” he laughed.

Ali came out of the bedroom a few minutes later and apologized for being on the phone. He signed to me that he had to let everyone know we were here safely, and Zaid had some business he needed to run by him.

We went to our room to take a shower and nap before dinner. The room looked like it was fit for a president. There was a huge bed with white comforter and pillows, a fireplace, old art. I felt highly underdressed in my t-shirt and jeans. It definitely wasn’t Ali’s modern taste, but seemed to fit with the regal, historic city.

We showered together and then I put on a pair of briefs and went to crawl under the covers while Ali walked around the room trying to connect his laptop to the wifi. He was completely naked and I watched one lonely bead of water slide down the dark skin of his muscled shoulder. His heavy cock swung between his thighs as he looked up furiously for some kind of box on the ceiling.

He must have gotten it to work because he paused, hit a few keys, and then smiled at his accomplishment. He flopped down beside on the bed, his chiseled frame radiating warmth. I nuzzled into his side as he slipped an arm around me and got to work on some emails. I reached for his cock as it flopped over his left thigh, and tugged it a few times.

“One second, my heart, I must work,” he signed with an apologetic look. I nodded and closed my eyes against his chest while keeping my hand around the fat brown snake that comforted me. He kissed the top of my head as I settled Kurtköy travesti into my rest.

I awoke with my head against the pillow as Ali stood across the room wearing black boxer briefs that framed his hard bubbled ass, a gray dress shirt that hugged his muscles, and black socks that went up almost to his knees. He was working a white tie into the perfect knot around his neck. His dark hair was slicked back with shiny gel.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I felt better and had forgotten about the scene at the airport. Ali had a similar suit laid out for me, but mine had a black, velvety bow tie. I knew I could never fill it like he did. My body was toned, but small. The suit he had for me was tailored perfectly to my body, and I looked surprisingly decent at his side. It felt silly, I never dressed up like that. He hugged me from behind in the mirror as we looked at each other longingly. I wanted to ride him right then and there, but it was getting late and my stomach was empty.

Samir and Caleb were dressed equally nice. They were waiting for us when we came out. The curtains had been closed in the bedroom, but in the living area I could see that the sky was dark while the city lights pulsed below us.

A car took us a few blocks away to a restaurant where our expensive suits would fit in perfectly. We had a round table in the center of things. The food was French, and I had no idea what to order. Ali picked out something for me, and ordered for himself. He and Samir caught up on things while Caleb and I signed back and forth to each other about our lives since we’d last met up.

Caleb told me about Samir’s success in LA, and their new offices in West Hollywood. They’d been able to get a small house just above the Sunset Strip. He glowed about how jealous all of his friends were and how much Samir spoiled him. He showed me pictures on his phone of his house and brand new Mercedes. It sounded like they were having a crazy life together out there.

“Your life is so exciting. It almost makes me wish I had that,” I signed and tried to look genuinely happy for him.

“It can be yours too! I’m sure Ali would move to LA if you wanted. You could come home and have more freedom here,” Caleb insisted.

I felt a tinge of jealousy for just a second, but then Ali reached for my hand and squeezed it. He wasn’t looking in on our signed conversation, his body just knew that I needed his touch. Maybe he needed mine as well. We were in sync like that.

“I don’t want that,” I reminded Caleb. “I don’t push Ali like you do with Samir. I like my life, my place at his side. We support each other. I’m halfway through my degree. I’m really getting into Yoga and we have our weekends at the beach house now. We even take Kadir (our dog). He likes to run on the beach with us. I like simple, calm, happy.”

I squeezed back on Ali’s hand, and he slid an arm around the back of my chair as he leaned back and laughed at whatever he was talking about with Samir. He paused for a minute and looked over at me questioningly with those are-you-ok eyes. I nodded and he went back to Samir.

“I know. You’re happy and it works for you. I just miss having you around. I can’t go back there to live, Emi. You know how crazy it drove me to be under constant lock and key with the eyes always on us. Plus the culture of the silent partner who is at home all the time. It wasn’t for me.” Caleb seemed genuinely happy with the life he’d created with Samir in LA.

As we ate, I kept looking over at Ali whose body language showed how much he missed his little brother and worried for Samir. When he felt my eyes on him, he’d look back, and then push me to eat my dinner. I could sense his discomfort with Samir and Caleb’s relationship. He had mentioned it to me a few times during our late night talks. He opened up to me in bed as he spoke and the tablet put down text for me to read and type back to. He was worried Caleb was breaking his proud brother, luring him into an unhealthy situation. Lions were not to be tamed by their boys. .

Ali held it together though, and his time with Samir seemed to be going smoothly through dinner.

After they argued over the check with each other, Ali slid out my chair and took my hand. We went to the waiting town car, and then cruised through the night lights of the glowing city. I don’t know New York or its landmarks. Ali had been there many times on business and adventures. He and Samir pointed out a few things to each other and laughed at inside jokes while I snuggled in under his arm.

We seemed to drive in circles before pulling into the valet area of our hotel again. I was ready to brush my teeth, strip down, and please my lion.

Instead of going to our room though, the elevators opened onto a different floor. I looked at Ali with confusion, but he wasn’t acknowledging me. He squeezed my hand and led me down a wide, dimly lit hallway to a large set of doors.

I looked at Caleb with the same confusion, Pendik travesti and noticed a smile growing on his lips. He never kept secrets from me, and I could tell he was fighting to hold onto one. He looked away though as Ali opened the door for me.

The door opened to a completely dark room and across it was a wall of windows leading out to a decorated terrace. There were lights strung in the shapes of stars floating over the terrace which was covered in endless bouquets of white flowers. There was a white archway covered in blossoms, and sets of chairs flanking a white carpeted aisle. It looked like a wedding.

We walked to the center of the dark room and then Ali stopped me. All of a sudden the dark room filled with bright light. I blinked and squinted as my eyes adjusted.

The room was filled with people. All of the Hamad family was there including Zaid and his two men. Izem was there with his new boyfriend hanging on his arm. Dr. Hamad was there with some of his friends who had visited the house for our dinner parties. There were others that I didn’t recognize too. Caleb’s parents were there, I hadn’t seen them in years. Everyone looked so happy and they all stared at me.

I wondered for a second if I was dying. The white was my send off to heaven. Maybe Dr. Hamad had figured out some weird illness I had and they’d gathered everyone together to send me off. I don’t know why my mind jumped so quickly to thoughts of horror. I’m not usually that dark of a person. I must have given Ali very sad eyes because he quickly gave me a worried look and pulled me into his chest. He kissed my cheek and must have whispered something in my ear. I just felt his hot breath and inhaled his cologne.

“Emi,” he signed when he pushed me back gently from his embrace. He knelt in front of me like a knight returning to the castle. I noticed a few photographers snapping pictures with fancy cameras.

“You are the love of my life. My greatest power in this world is to bring a smile to your face. When I come home and see you, I know there is good in the world. When I face an obstacle, you are what keeps me pushing forward. I spent so many years wandering to find myself and what I was meant to do in this world. The moment I met you, it all became clear. You are my support, my protectorate, my cub. You are my source of life. Will you marry me?” Ali signed as though he’d practiced it in the mirror a million times.

“I’m not dying?” I signed, in shock and disbelief over this sudden proposal.

“Of course not,” he signed back. “Why would you think that? I die first. That is always the deal.”

“Then yes, ok yes!” I jumped into his arms and was rewarded with a kiss as he held me to his chest.

Ali yelled something to the room and everyone looked really excited for us.

I wasn’t used to a crowd of people looking at me, much less with excitement and love. It was too much and I buried my face in his shoulder. He pet my hair and held onto me knowing exactly what I was feeling. For two years now I’d been at his side, out of the spotlight. It was a little much.

Once everyone was seated on the terrace, Ali went and knelt down on a rug in front of the cleric who would marry us. Beside him sat a man who would translate between Arabic, English and Sign Language. Caleb waited with me inside until we got the signal and then he held my hand and walked with me down the aisle between the guests. It wasn’t one of those wedding marches where you wait and then take a step and then wait again. We just walked to the rug where Ali knelt and then Caleb placed my hand in Ali’s as I knelt beside him.

We turned to face each other and held hands as we looked into each other’s eyes. The translator was sweeping his hands to tell me what the cleric was saying. He was also speaking and I guess translating into English for the guests from the US. It seemed like quite the task. I got distracted by it.

Ali turned my attention back to him and let go of my hands. He started to sign to me in another practiced proclamation.

“Emerson, you belong to me in my own culture and now I want us to belong to each other in yours. I cannot go a day without seeing your beautiful eyes or sweet smile. I promise to make every day special for you, always put you first, defend your honor, provide for your every need, and guide you as you grow into the man I will love for eternity. My life took meaning the day I met you. Without you, there is no me. I promise to listen to your thoughts, consider your desires, and deliver your dreams. You are my love, my happiness, my beautiful bride, the best part of me. I will be honored to be your husband. I will wear it as my greatest title.” Ali reached for my hands again and kissed my fingers.

I felt dizzy, didn’t know how to respond. I loved him so much and never expected this. I felt tears running down my cheeks and he kept swiping them away with a finger and a dopey smile.

I didn’t have words prepared and certainly couldn’t construct such a speech to impress the crowd like Ali had. I looked to see more than a few tears in the audience as the lighted stars flickered above us. Ali had thought of this though and the translator tapped my shoulder to alert me that the cleric was proceeding.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Miles decided to spend a warm Saturday night at one of his favorite places to visit. One of his best friends managed a local sports bar in the city of Fullerton. As soon as he entered the building, he found a few people watching sports on the lone flat-screen TV. The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim played against the Arizona Diamondbacks, and it appeared to be a tie game at the bottom of the fifth.

The bar itself didn’t look fancy at all. It didn’t have that cosmopolitan ambiance that originated in several places in the city. It remained rather ordinary with a billiards table, an old-fashioned CD jukebox, a poker table, sports memorabilia on the walls, and an HD TV for sports broadcasting. The entire building didn’t lack refinement, but it did have a deficiency of blissful ambiance due to the many discontented barflies who visited the place. Miles would consider himself to be one of those barflies, but he didn’t drink much. He just felt blue tonight.

“Hey, Trevor, give me a cold one.”

The forty-one-year-old man sat down at the front counter and waited for his friend to hand him one of his favorite liquid refreshments.

Trevor, a thirty-eight-year-old Vietnamese man, wore a black silk shirt and black denim jeans. He arrived at the front counter with a bottle of beer that was just recently opened. He handed it to Miles and said, “I’ll be counting.”

Miles already took a long sip of his beer. “Don’t worry, man. You know me. This will be my only bottle for tonight.”

Trevor started wiping the countertop with a piece of white cloth. Speaking fluent English, he asked, “Are you still looking for work?”

Miles gave a nod. “I know I won’t find one, but I’m still looking just for the hell of it.”

“You shouldn’t really feel so negative about this. There are plenty of companies out there who are looking for guys like you.”

“Then why haven’t they called back for the past two months?”

Trevor shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t ask me. I’m not an expert. I just hope you wrote the correct phone number on your applications.”

Miles sighed. “Life feels like hell right now. I think you know how it feels to be forced into wallowing in your own misery.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

Miles immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s all right. I’ve moved past that stage.”

“Oh, yeah. Are you still seeing that college guy?”

Trevor gave a little smile. “Ever since April.”

“I never met him. What’s he like?”

Trevor pointed his finger to one of the booths in the corner. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Miles turned around to see a young man with shoulder-length brown hair sitting at the booth. He wore black shorts and a white t-shirt. He waved his hand at Miles, who in turn tipped his dark blue truckers cap with his finger. The young man looked attractive, though he did seem a bit too young for a man like Trevor.

Miles asked the manager, “So what’s he doing here, anyway?”

“The two of us are going to spend some time together for the rest of the night. We might even stay after closing time…if you get my drift.”

“You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

Trevor laughed. “He’s a great catch, I tell ya.”

“Well, I’m happy for you. You deserve some enjoyment in your life. I wish the same could be said about me.”

“Why don’t you look for someone instead of spending more money on a bottle of beer?”

Miles gave a hint of sarcasm when he replied, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a man who is fascinated by an unemployed knucklehead like me.”

Trevor raised his hands. “All right, do it your way.”

Before he could take another sip of his beer, Miles noticed something at the corner of his eye. Someone began to play a song on the jukebox near one of the pool tables. Miles recognized it as “Remedy,” from The Black Crowes. He admired the hard and bluesy 90’s rock sound, and it appeared that someone else had taken a liking to it as well.

Miles regained his concentration and asked Trevor, “Do you know anyone who is willing to hire someone who can operate a forklift?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

As the two men discussed career options, Miles gave a brief glance at the one who wanted to play music from The Black Crowes. It looked like a woman, but Miles couldn’t be too sure. The person standing in front of the jukebox had long and smooth blond hair and wore what looked like a black sleeveless undershirt, accompanied with a pair of blue jeans. When the person started dancing by swinging the hips in a slow manner, a moderately feminine quality in terms of appearance and mannerisms became apparent.

Even as he continued to have his discussion with Trevor, Miles looked again to examine the blond individual a little more. The third glimpse gave him a better view. It became an authentic confirmation that the blond person was a man, or rather a very womanly man. The flat chest and manlike face didn’t juxtapose well with the rest of his body. The blond man was slim and short, possibly just a few inches shorter Bağdat caddesi travesti than Miles. He appeared young, perhaps in his early 20’s or so. Miles could clearly see now that the shirt he wore was a black sleeveless turtleneck top.

Ever since he spotted him, Miles couldn’t regain his complete concentration of answering Trevor’s questions. He continued to gaze at the young man who danced to the upbeat tune of classic rock. Something attracted him to the man who demonstrated his slow harmonious movements. Furthermore, it seemed rather odd, but Miles immediately obtained the uneasy feeling that he had seen the blond man before.

“Do you like what you see over there?”

Miles turned back to his friend and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Trevor. It’s just that…well, I don’t know. The guy looks familiar for some reason.”

Trevor eyed the blond dancer. “The one that looks like a woman? Yeah, he’s quite the looker.”

Miles chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But still, I think I’ve seen him before. I really can’t figure it out yet.”

“Maybe he just reminds you of someone.”

Miles shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I can almost feel it, though.”

“I think I know that feeling.”

“And what’s that?”

Trevor gave a little smile. “You just want him for yourself.”

Miles added mild sarcasm in his voice as he replied, “Yeah, sure. I look at him for ten seconds and I already want him to wear a wedding ring that has my initials on it.”

Trevor started cleaning empty beer mugs with a cloth. “It’s not easy to hide your denial, is it?”

Miles licked his lips. “No, I guess not. He IS looking good right now. Though, I wouldn’t mind if he cut his hair short.”

His next long sip of beer felt more satisfying while his eyes stayed on the young man. As the main chorus of the song repeated itself, so did his extravagant-looking hip movements. Miles slid his fingers across his brown shoulder-length hair. He found himself captivated by the womanly figure, though he, with his mind, still tried to reconstruct and re-evaluate familiar territory from the past.

The song ended, and the jukebox began to automatically shuffle around with its CD collection. After a few seconds of silence, it started to play a vintage grunge rock song from Stone Temple Pilots, entitled “Wicked Garden.”

Derek from the booth got up and asked Trevor where he kept the cue sticks for the billiards table, to which Trevor replied, “They’re right next to the jukebox.”

“I want to play pool if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. You’re gonna have to find another player, though. It’s not really fun when you’re playing all by yourself.”

“I’ll join in.” The young blond man raised his hand. A diminutive grin had formed on his face.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Derek walked towards the pool table. “We’ll see if you’re actually good at this game.”

“Ooh, fighting words. I like you already.”

For the next few minutes, Miles and Trevor stayed at the front counter and watched the younger individuals start their straightforward competition with the first round of eight-ball billiards. While Trevor had his eyes on his younger lover, Miles couldn’t stop gazing at the other one. He slowly placed his bottle of beer on the countertop. He took a deep breath. He now recognized the familiarity surrounding the effeminate man. He did indeed see him before.

Miles whispered to Trevor, “Now I know.”

Trevor also lowered the volume of his voice. “So you DID see him before.”

“I remember back when I still lived in Riverside. About four years ago, this group of high school seniors always harassed me whenever they had the chance. There were about six of seven of them. They somehow found out about my sexual preferences, probably through word-of-mouth or something. Anyway, they would usually pull pranks on me either at work or at home. They left a burning paper bag full of crap at my doorstep. They stuffed a dead raccoon in my mailbox. One time, they even stole my car and left it somewhere around Diamond Bar.”

“How the hell did they do that?”

“I don’t know, but one thing became clear to me. They really wouldn’t respect guys like us if they drove that far away from Riverside.”

“I already assume that the man at the billiards table had been a part of the group.”

Miles nodded. “Only that is not how he looked back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“I remember his face. Back then, he looked rather average. He blended in with the rest of the gang, except he looked to be one of the shorter participants. I can tell because I finally confronted the troublemakers. I couldn’t stand for it any longer. I threatened them with a baseball bat. I warned them that I can feel quite exhilarated if I use it against them. They didn’t want to fight against a grown man. They just walked away without saying another word. But before they did, I got a good look at all of them.”

Miles pointed at the blond at the billiards table. “His hair wasn’t as long back Bostancı travesti then, and he didn’t dress up like a woman. He acted just like everyone else, including me. I didn’t see him or the rest of the gang again since I moved here in Fullerton.”

Trevor rubbed his chin. “From the looks of it, he tried to hide his true identity by joining that very same gang. Either that, or he still felt confused about his gender at the time.”

“Those are two theories that seem the most logical.”

“But what’s he doing here?”

Miles continued to observe his former adversary. His appearance and mannerisms appeared so different in contrast to his behavior from four years ago. He acted (or least tried to act) tough like the other teenagers, even if he appeared skinny and unmanly. In the present, the exact opposite had taken effect. The young blond man bent over with his cue stick to concentrate on his next move. He moved his whole body like a suave and gracious female. An unhurried punctuality controlled his movements.

Miles pushed his beer bottle away. “I think it’s time for me to solve a little mystery.”

Trevor didn’t move. “Be careful, Miles. Try not to use a cue stick the wrong way. I don’t want a crime scene taking place in my bar.”

“Don’t feel so concerned about my actions. It’s not like I’m going to hurt anybody. I’m as well-mannered as you.”

“That is considered a promise you’re going to keep.”

“Sure.”

Miles stood up and walked over to the pool table in silence. The blond man gave a blank stare as he leaned against his cue stick.

He asked, “Would you like to join us?”

Miles grabbed his own cue stick. “Don’t mind if I do.”

As Miles cleaned the cue tip with chalk, someone played another song from the jukebox. This time, music from Monster Magnet began to blare from the speakers. The song, entitled “Temple of Your Dreams,” gave off symphonic “psychedelic rock” vibes.

At this time, all three men surrounding the pool table remained silent. Derek concentrated on his next shot as he leaned over and aimed his cue stick at the white cue ball. Miles gave a sidelong glance at the player standing just several feet away from him. He kept quiet as he tried to comprehend a reasonable motive behind his arrival here tonight. Anything was possible. Either the blond man attended a university here in Orange County, or he currently visited a relative living here in Fullerton.

Miles took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “So, what brings you here on a Saturday night?”

The blond man, who was just a few inches shorter than Miles, smiled and said, “Oh, I just felt like playing some pool.”

“Do you live around here?”

“I just moved from Riverside about three months ago. I finished college and now I work at a Costco on Harbor Boulevard.”

Miles put his hat back on his head. “What’s your name?”

“Most people know me by Hector, but you can call me Harriet if you like.”

“Which one do you personally prefer?”

“I can’t say. It depends on the mood I’m in.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I call you Hector…since you still look like a man in my point of view. No offense.”

“It never hurts to do what you want.”

As soon as Hector shifted his concentration towards the pool table again, Miles gazed at him, looking down from his black shoes and up to his smooth gold-colored hair. In his mind, he felt a dead end. Even if they hadn’t seen each other for a total of four years, Hector, who should be twenty-two years old by now, would have at least recognized the one man that he and his gang had harassed on a weekly basis. At this moment, he acted as if Miles turned out to be a complete stranger. A flourish of theories included Hector possibly playing a well-planned trick on Miles.

As soon as Derek finished his shot, Hector walked away from Miles in silence. He bent down as he concentrated on the white cue ball, which stood right in front of three pool balls. He thrust his stick against the cue ball before it collided with its primary targets. None of the pool balls, however, made it in any of the six pockets.

Derek replied, “I can teach you how to play if you want.”

Hector shook his head. “Don’t toy with me. I’m just warming up.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Hector backed away from the table while Miles took his cue stick and focused on the remaining balls on the green surface.

He kept his eyes on the cue ball while he asked, “So Hector, do people ever give you strange looks when you’re dressed like that?”

“Oh, I get that all the time. Some of the people I’ve bumped into even yelled some very ruthless obscenities at me. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t even care what they think of me.”

Miles thrust his cue stick, and within a fraction of a second, the cue ball rammed itself against the ten-ball. It landed in one of the corner pockets.

“That’s good, because no one should ever have to make enemies that way.”

Miles could hear Hector Kartal travesti chuckle as he said, “I couldn’t agree more.”

The Monster Magnet song faded out, just in time for a song from Lynyrd Skynyrd to kick in. Miles recognized it as “Voodoo Lake,” a rarity from the 90’s. The dark and groovy intro had arrived in the shape of two acoustic guitars and a fiddle.

When it was Derek’s turn again on the pool table, Miles kept his composure as he asked the blond man, “Did you ever experience the exact same thing back in Riverside?”

Hector was silent for a few seconds before he replied, “No, not exactly. No one knew about it because I didn’t have the courage to express myself.”

“It must be an agonizing feeling, knowing that people will reject you for who you really are.”

Hector still had his eyes on the pool table, even though the expression on his face grew a little solemn. “I told you that I don’t care anymore.”

“But you did a few years ago, am I right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

The Skynyrd song that blared on the jukebox had reached its main chorus, which featured lyrics that had something to do with the devil’s offspring.

Derek finished his shot, but Hector just stood there. Derek looked a little confused as Miles asked, “Did you ever tell your friends from Riverside about what you like to do behind closed doors?”

Hector replied, “No, I never did. I didn’t feel like telling them about it, anyway, since they’re not really open to new ideas about being a man.”

Miles expressed his amusement with quiet laughter. “I bet you felt annoyed when they expressed their dissatisfaction with men who prefer other men.”

“I did, sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?”

Hector took a slow deep breath. “Because I didn’t want them to know that I held a different opinion, you know. I didn’t want to lose any friendships. When you’re eighteen, you tend to keep your mouth shut when it comes to such an extreme topic.”

“So you didn’t say anything when your friends started harassing other people?”

Miles could see Hector tightening his grip on his cue stick. “Why would I spoil their fun?’

“You didn’t even say anything when they stole someone’s car and sent it all the way to Diamond Bar?”

That should have given Hector a more apparent reaction, but he stood still and said with a calm voice, “So you know about that.”

Miles’s voice grew hoarse. “Of course, I do. I was the one who told the cops about it.”

“And that means you know all about me and my friends.”

“You’ve been harassing me for three straight weeks. The only way you would forget is if you had amnesia or something of that sort. A four-year absence shouldn’t be affected by a short-term memory when you’ve confronted a man like me.”

Hector gave a little grin. “So my appearance didn’t tip you off at first?”

“I can’t say that it did.”

Derek immediately stepped in. “Are you guys already done with this game?”

Miles replied, “You two can continue. I need another drink.”

He didn’t even give Hector a brief glance as he put down his cue stick and left for the front counter. In actuality, he didn’t feel like drinking another bottle of beer, but he did want to recap a few things with the bar manager.

Trevor, who looked like he had observed the entire conversation, had just finished talking to one of the barflies from the corner. As soon as Miles took a seat at the counter, Trevor asked, “So was he a victim of your mind tricks or what?”

Miles kept the volume of his voice to a minimum. “No, not really.”

“I’m guessing that he does recognize you.”

“Yes, he does. Not only that, but he already knew who I was the moment he took his first step in this place.”

“Sounds to me like HE’S the one trying to play mind tricks.”

Miles licked his lips. “I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

Trevor cleared his throat. “What do you mean?’

Miles observed the two younger men occupying themselves with their ordinary game of billiards. Hector gave a momentary look at the man with the truckers cap before shifting his gaze at the pool table yet again.

Miles whispered to Trevor, “Think about it. Hector and I haven’t seen each other for four years. And now, on the exact same night, we pay you and your bar a visit at the very same time.”

“I think you’re relying too much on a conspiracy theory that’s almost certainly counterfeit.”

“Maybe he’s trying to send me a message or something.”

Trevor pointed his finger at his friend. “Well, I’ve got a message for you. In fact, it’s more of a scenario. He sees you in a random location somewhere around here. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want you to recognize him right away. He follows you to see where you go to have some fun. And seeing this is where you do some of your most routine indoor activities, he decides to check this place out before interacting with the one man he feels sorry for ridiculing while still residing in Riverside.”

“I hope you’re not implying that he’s stalking me.”

“Well, we’ll leave that possibility outside. This is the point that I’m trying to make: maybe he just wants to know you more.”

“If that’s the case, he should have stopped pretending that we were complete strangers several minutes ago.”

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Copyright belongs to MJ Roberts 2014. Please do not reproduce without permission from the author.

FIRST BLUSH

The thirty-piece band was playing the first song I recognized since I got here: It Had To Be You. It was Memorial Day, and I was standing in the corner at a 400 guest wedding. It was definitely the most grandiose event I’d ever been attended. I decided I didn’t like grandiose events. Which I guess makes sense because I’m more comfortable with my nose buried in a textbook than at a party. I would have stayed in my back yard reviewing math proofs and getting ready for next fall if I could have.

But an 18-year-old distant cousin of mine was getting married, and my father decreed that I had to come, so I here I was. I was wishing for a simple picnic and fireworks in the gorgeous holiday sunshine instead of getting lost in the throng of the well dressed.

A brunette in a fancy, low-cut red dress stepped in front of me. I recognized her immediately.

“Hi,” she said and smiled a mega-watt smile. “You’re obviously one of Joe and Marsha’s sons, but I’m not positive which one. “

“Eli,” I said.

At the same time she said, “Eli?”

I nodded.

“I thought so.”

It was easy to see how she could be unsure. I had three younger brothers, and we were all very close in age. We all had the same fair coloring with flaming red hair and a smattering of freckles.

“I’m Dawn,” she said, touching her chest.

“I know,” I said. “You like exactly the same.”

I hadn’t seen her in about nine years. She was ten years older than me, which would make her 32.

“You don’t. Look at you, all grown up. The last time I saw you, you were like a shy colt. Those amazing, piercing baby blues are exactly the same though.”

I felt a slight blush run to the top of my cheeks at the compliment.

“Thanks,” I said.

She came and stood beside me, so we were shoulder to shoulder.

“Happy Memorial Day,” she said with a good dose of sarcasm as she looked out at the crowd.

I tried not to roll my eyes.

“You know what would make this shindig even better?” she asked.

“What?”

“Three hundred and twenty-five less people.”

I smiled. I’d always liked her.

“I heard you graduated from college.”

She lived on the East Coast; I lived on the West Coast. But her mom and my mom kept up with each other. Still, it surprised me she knew.

“Yeah, last year.”

“And you majored in math, something specific, ah, data analytics or something.”

The way she said data analytics I could tell she had no idea what that meant.

“Yup.”

She was an artist. I tried to remember what she did for a minute. Scarfs? “You still making those batik scarfs?” Whatever the hell batik was.

“Yeah,” she said. She turned to me and her face let up. “A chain of gift shops associated with international museums picked them up, so I’m really busy with orders.”

“That’s great.”

“Mmn-hmn.”

We were silent for a minute watching the people dance, drink, and cavort.

“Gay?” she said.

WHAT?

“Excuse me?” Heat flooded my cheeks. My ears tingled the blood rushed there so fast. Damn. The top of my ears were probably beet red.

“I didn’t mean to step all in your business. If you don’t want to talk about it or anything, that’s okay.”

“Um, ah.”

“I was just curious, you know, if you had a boyfriend.”

I blushed harder. I gulped. “Kah.”

“Never mind.”

Jeez. No one had ever asked me that. But I didn’t want to be in the closet or anything.

“Um, yeah, I am. What, do you have super gaydar or something?”

“Pretty much. And it can run in families. Of course there are the other two.”

“What? Who?”

She looked at me like I was nuts. Her expression said, ‘How could you not know?’ But she didn’t answer me.

“Anyway,” I said. “Yes, I’m gay. No, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well,” she said. “I don’t have a boyfriend right now either.”

The bride and groom danced by leading a long conga line. The bride had on a plastic tiara that read ‘bride’, the groom had on a hat that read ‘groom’. The bridesmaid had on a hat that said ‘Memorial’, and the best man had on a hat that said ‘Day’.

“Oh dear,” Dawn said.

When the conga line passed Dawn said, “I have someone who you have to meet.” She grabbed my bicep and pulled me across the dance floor. I thought perhaps she meant another cousin or something until we were almost to the big French doors. A shaft of light highlighted a very handsome man standing in profile to us.

I started to pull back as I tensed into full alert. My heart sped up. Dawn tightened her grip on my arm.

“Hey Greg,” Dawn called.

He turned to face us and I thought, when novelists write ‘they saw each other across a crowded room and he felt an instant attraction’, this is what they’re talking about.

Then we were next to him. Dawn was speaking, and I had to work to concentrate.

“…Is a math genius specializing Göztepe travesti in data analytics. Greg is the Dean of Astrophysics.”

Still holding my arm, she put her other hand on Greg’s arm and pulled us both so we stood closer together.

“Oh, I see somebody I have to talk to. Bye.” She scurried off. I looked at her retreating back. What?

Greg stuck his hand out. “Greg Stricklane.”

I reached out to shake it, on automatic reaction. “Eli Karkowski.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I said.

“Data analytics,” he said.

I nodded.

“How do you apply it?”

That’s what people ask when they mean, ‘What the fuck would you use that for?’ or ‘Where could you possible use that?’ or ‘I have no idea what that is?’ I stifled an inner sigh.

Maybe he saw my expression because he said, “Noooo, I mean do you apply it?”

I launched into a huge speech about applications of mathematical neural networks in medicine, ecological planning, and population control. I stopped myself after about three sentences. A tiny blush started across the bridge of my nose. Oh God, how embarrassing.

“Sorry. That’s really boring unless you’re a total math geek.”

“I am a math geek. Physics is largely math.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Well, applying data analytics to astrophysics,” I said. “This is pretty new, we can take photos of stars and galaxies, run them through the new proofs and equations, make 3-D extrapolations, and use them for more complex mapping, rocket building, and things like to tell professors where they should be looking for new stars.”

Greg leaned forward until his lips were very close to my ear. “You know intelligence is a huge turn-on.”

I blushed from my hairline to my collar.

“Nice.” He chuckled. “So is a delicious blush.”

Holy shit. Dawn didn’t introduce me to Greg because he was a science geek. She introduced me to him because he was gay! I guess my gaydar didn’t work as well as hers.

“Ahhhh… well, I can send you some links if you’d like.”

“Yes. I like.”

Hard to miss that one.

“Um… ahh….” I blushed harder. Damn fair coloring.

“It’s getting stuffy in here,” Greg said. “Would you like to go outside and walk in the gardens?”

I put my finger under my collar. It was suddenly too tight. I pulled at the neck of my shirt more but it suddenly was closing in on my adam’s apple with a choke hold. I couldn’t speak. I nodded.

He walked out the glass doors, and I followed. The flowers were in riotous bloom, and the colors and sweet smells provided a welcome distraction from my nerves. Greg led me into a hedge maze, and the relative privacy both terrified and excited me.

A brief burst of fireworks exploded across the river. We stopped to admire the red, white, and blue spider-shape sparkles.

“It’s usually one of my favorite holidays,” Greg said.

“But not today?” I asked.

He stared at me intensely. “No. Today it is absolutely my favorite holiday.”

My face got hot, and I looked down and pushed dirt around with my toe.

“I could stand to walk around a little more,” I said.

We walked in a comfortable silence. I felt like I should say something, but I didn’t want to ruin how good it felt walking beside him. I kept taking surreptitious glances at him. My hopes soared so high. His dapper grey suit looked like it cost more than my car, and I wondered if it would feel silky. I longed to touch it. My fingers clenched and unclenched slightly.

It was weird how comfortable I felt around him, because I’m usually not only shy, but a little cautious around new people. Instead I felt sort of the way I would with someone I’ve known for a long time and was really comfortable with, if you added a dose of hoooo-boy excitement into the comfort mix.

Like riding in the world’s most luxurious airplane. And standing in an open doorway with a parachute.

“So, my friend,” he said with a smile and a great deal of humor in his voice. “Would you like to come see my collection of etchings?”

Even I recognized that for the over-the-top pick-up line it was meant to be, and we both burst out laughing. Then I held my breath. I waited for my brain to catch up and be able to form an appropriately witty answer.

I thought, ‘Oh no, please don’t blush again.’ But I did. I couldn’t find any words to say how much I wanted him.

He brushed a finger against the back of my hand ever so lightly. “Too soon?”

I shook my head. Then I nodded my head. Then I nodded my head more vigorously.

I wiped my palms on my pants. “Actually,” I said when I could find my voice, “Art appreciation is a turn-on.”

He smiled at me. God, he had a great smile.

“Come on, my car’s this way.”

I followed him out to a big side parking lot and was almost to his car when I blinked myself out of stupor. “Wait a sec, I have to go back inside and tell my family I’m leaving.”

“Okay. I’ll wait here.”

I ran in, found one of my brothers, and in the vaguest terms possible told him I had a ride, Küçükyalı travesti and he should tell Dad. I ran back out to Greg. I was almost panting when I got back out. That got another superstar smile from him.

Jeez Eli, eager much?

“Ready?” he asked.

Oh yeah. Like for about five years.

He held the door open for me. I couldn’t decide if that was weird or the kindest, most romantic gesture I’d ever seen. I opted for the latter and gave him a tentative smile.

I didn’t know what kind of car it was, but I sank into the luxury of the seats and stared at the dials, which reminded me of the console of a plane or a space ship—although I’d never seen one.

Greg rocketed us down the wide tree-lined road with a finesse that was a 180 from how I drove. He handled the curves like a pro, and I wondered if his proficiency extended to other things.

That thought made me think where we were going literally and figuratively. I could hardly just blurt out that I was a virgin, never even been kissed. Wasn’t it supposed to be painful the first time? What if I was no good at it? What if this was my one chance to experience what it was like with a guy, and I messed it up?

My heart pulsed a pulverizing fast rhythm as it galloped away from me trying to burst out of my chest. I clenched my jaw, then my fists, then my eyes, then the rest of my face. I probably looked like I was sucking on a sour lemon. All of my skin flushed hot, surely turning me a hue slightly darker than tomato red.

I told myself to breathe, but I couldn’t.

I heard the car screech as it swerved. Greg cut across three lines and abruptly pulled over.

“What, what?” he asked.

I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t face him. The space in the car closed in around me. I turned an even darker shade. I’d bite off my arm before I’d tell him I was a virgin.

“Eli, what’s going on?”

Um. Heart palpitations, sweaty palms, trouble breathing.

“Eli, answer me, what’s going on?”

I couldn’t speak.

Greg grabbed my chin firmly and turned my face to him.

“Eli, open your eyes.”

I did and I could feel them frantically darting around the car. Like my eyes were wild horses desperately trying to escape.

“Eli, look at me.”

I shook my head ever so slightly.

“Eli.” His voice was firm. Calm. I looked at him. “I want to know, right now, what you’re thinking and feeling that has you looking like you’re about to stroke out.”

I didn’t answer.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We don’t have to go to my place. We can go to a fancy restaurant, or for a walk in the park, or to a bar. I can take you back to the wedding.”

The pressure around my heart released but the air also got colder. “I don’t want to go back to the wedding, or anywhere else,” I said. “I want to go to your place.”

“We can go to my place and not do anything,” he said. My shoulders relaxed a little bit, and I think my color returned to normal.

“I want to do everything,” I whispered.

He shrugged slightly and gave me a look that I interpreted to mean, ‘So what’s the problem?’

Then his eyes widened. I could see when he got it. “Oh God,” he said.

Greg unhooked his seatbelt and then unhooked mine.

“Shit,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I want to. Anything. Everything.”

Greg leaned forward, nuzzled my neck, put his lips near my ear.

God he smelled so good.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said softly.

My cock jumped, straining toward him.

“Very gentle.”

I said the first thing that came to my mind, “I don’t want you to be gentle. I want you to be fierce.”

He let out a quiet, growling sound deep in his throat.

“I just need you to be slow. Very, very, very slow.”

“Eli, I can be glacier if that’s what you need. As long as you give me the honor of letting me get you there.”

Greg brushed my lips with his, ever so softly.

The most magnificent thing I’d ever felt.

He backed up a little, and I stared into his eyes. I’d thought they were brown, but this close I could see little streaks of gold in them.

Greg rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip. I touched the light brown wave of hair that hung low over his forehead, pushing it the side.

He palmed the side of my face, tilted my face, and leaned in to kiss me.

Oh yes. This was where I was meant to be. His tongue explored my mouth in a slow, sensual rhythm. I thought of stars and heaven and how could I possibly get more.

I grabbed the suit jacket material on his shoulders, desperate to get him even closer to me. The fabric was silky, but it was nothing compared to the smooth wonder of his kiss.

He came up for air.

“I could do that for twenty-four hours straight. And then twenty-four hours more,” I said. “Please Greg, please. It’s so good; kiss me again. Show me.”

He chuckled and then kissed me again, harder, pushing me back into the seat. I kissed him back with everything I had. I wanted to put his hand on my cock, which was begging for Avrupa yakası travesti his touch, but I was too shy.

Greg broke off the kiss again. “Better?”

“Much better.” I wanted to get him naked as soon as possible. Did that make me a cliché? The stereotype of a gay guy who hooks up with someone he barely knows? I felt like I should ask him some questions to get to know him better, but my cock was throbbing, and my head was reeling.

Come on Eli, come on. Get enough blood to your brain to make an attempt at conversation. I was really having a hard time with that. Work brain, work.

“So you have any siblings?”

“One younger sister. She’s good friends with the groom, which is how I got roped into going to that monstrosity in the first place.”

“So you have a favorite place to vacation?” What is this, twenty questions. Shut up, Eli, shut up.

“Yeah, Aruba. You ever been there?”

“Ut-uh. My parents won free tickets to three days stay in Aruba and couldn’t go, so they gave the prize to my sister and me. We decided to make a whole week vacation of it, and we had such a good time, we’ve gone back every year since. Their slogan there is ‘One happy island’. You can’t beat that.

There was a lull in the conversation and I struggled to think of something else to ask him.

“Did you always want to be an astrophysicist?”

“No, when I was a little boy I wanted to be an astronaut… but I was afraid of flying.”

I laughed.

“Then I found out I was colorblind and that nixed that.”

“You’re colorblind?”

“Absolutely and completely.” He feathered his fingers over the freckles on my one of my cheeks and across the bridge of my nose. “But I can tell that you’re a redhead.” He brushed his lips over the freckles on the other side. “With the palest milky-cream skin. And I’m betting those super intelligent eyes, with their piercing stare, aren’t the intense grey I see but a brilliant blue.”

He moved toward my eyes, and I closed them as he kissed each eyelid.

“Are they blue?”

I nodded.

“Thought so.”

Then he kissed me again, hotter this time. I felt like I knew enough about him now. Hell, even if he turned out to be a serial killer it would be worth it for this. Although I doubt my cousin would introduce me to a serial killer.

I smiled against his lips.

“What?” he asked.

“Thinking too much,” I said.

“I can fix that.” Then he kissed me. The car melted away, my body melted away, my ability to think, or move on my own melted away. I don’t know what he did to get me to surrender not just my mouth, but my whole being, but whatever it was, he could do it again and again. His tongue teased mine with perfect carnal thrusts.

Fireworks exploded, their booms seemingly too close. I lazily opened my eyes from half-mast to all the way open. When I bent my neck I could see the rocketing blooms open high in the sky through the top of the front windshield.

“When I kiss you, I see fireworks,” I said.

“When I kiss you, I only see you,” Greg said. “But there’s fireworks for sure.”

More fireworks exploded, sounding like gunshots.

“I might not see them, but I definitely hear them,” Greg said.

‘That’s my heart,’ I wanted to say.

He kissed me again.

“And I feel them. Boy do I feel them,” he said.

He smiled at me and I smiled at him. He was a sap! I liked it. I bit my bottom lip. His eyes followed the motion.

An even bigger rat-a-tat sound had us both ducking.

“Maybe we should get out of the danger zone,” Greg said.

Might be impossible while I’m with him.

“Definitely,” I said.

Greg turned the car back on, and we zoomed toward his place. I tried to think of all the ways adrenaline junkies get drunk going high speed. Because whatever it is guys who jump out of parachutes feel, I thought that might be close to what I was feeling. Nothing solid above, no firm ground below, wind rushing by with equal parts ‘hell, yeah,’ and ‘oh, shit.’

I put my hand on the smooth surface of my window. Trees flashed by, and I focused on the dappled sunshine from the late afternoon shining through, making the glass the perfect warmth.

Then we were there. The parking lot of his apartment building.

“Last chance to change your mind and turn this into a date where we go to 7-11 and get a slushie.”

I shook my head. “I’m all slushied out. I had my fair share of slushies at the wedding.”

I need something more like Grand Mariner or top-notch scotch, Greg. Something sophisticated and smooth. I think that’s you.

We were quiet in the elevator. My doubts leapt back in, attacking like giant spiders from a sci-fi movie.

He took a second fumbling for the right key to his door, and I reminded myself that freaking out—or worse, passing out—before getting over the threshold would be the epitome of uncool.

Then he opened the door. I walked into his living room decorated in soothing white with touches of black and grey.

I hardly believed it, but there, on his wall, was an amazing collection of zinc squares with thin-as-a-pen line grooves, and matching prints. Etchings.

I laughed.

“I thought that was a line,” I said.

“It was,” he said. “Why do you think I bought the etchings?”

“Jeez,” I mumbled. “How many boyfriends have you had?”

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