Date: Sat, 22 Mar 2003 11:43:37 -0800 (PST)
From: SportiveX <sportivex@gay.com>
Subject: "Hairy Bowl of Ass"  Gay- Adult Friends

*****
Warning:  This is explicit, graphic entertainment. The following erotica
involves sexual situations between CONSENTING, ADULT MALES. If you have not
yet reached that legal age in your part of the world, then use your back
button to leave NOW!  This is NOT intended to be viewed by minors--no one
under the age of 18/21, so proceeding means you are of legal age in your
state or nation.  OR you remain solely responsible for the consequences of
your actions if you are not of legal age in your area. Also, please leave
if you object to erotic ADULT MALES.

Copyright 2003. SportiveX.
*****

When living in the City a number years ago, I was a member at one of the
more nicer gyms/clubs. From swimming to aerobic classes, the membership had
become more geared towards workouts for the successful clientele of both
genders. The fees weren't that much more expensive, but it was located in a
more prosperous suburb, so it was somewhat natural the more affluent
gravitated towards making it part of their daily itinerary.

Within that membership, I met a guy who was as masculine as his name. Even
though I was a few years younger, and (at the time) some twenty or so
pounds sleeker, with dark, brown hair, everything else, though, pretty much
mirrored Kevin. At about five foot-ten, he was covered with this solid,
raven-blackness, equipped with a dense beard. Most of the time--on
weekends, usually, he had a phenomenal two or three days worth of stubble
that I wanted kissing my face...giving me severe burns, and wanted that
stubble all night long rubbing between my legs. Muscularly-sexy, his
military buzz cut was what first attracted me to him, oddly enough. As much
as I appreciate hairy, athletic men, short hair cuts and a chiseled face
are massive turn-ons. In his mid-30's, at around one-seventy or eighty,
this guy's rugged good-looks dripped testosterone.

Apparently, he had just joined the gym a few days before. When I got done
with my cycling that first afternoon I noticed him, I thought I was going
to cum on the bike in looking across the room at him doing the circuit. I
wasn't wearing a jock so my six shooter--and the subsequent wetness-- was
kinda evident through my faded blue sweats. But I didn't care, even if HE
noticed. It was me... reacting very naturally to this picturesque Man.

Kevin means "gentle and handsome" and in so watching him that day, at least
the latter of the two meanings was right on the money! I'd hope I'd
experience, eventually, the first meaning, feeling like he was interested
in me, too. I just attributed that to wishful thinking, though, my gaydar
had gone off on him. Ping! Ping! Yeah, but! I just never relied to heavily
on my instincts when it came to a guy's sexual orientation or interest in
just a blowjob.

But with him wearing those tight, white running shorts--though, I don't
think he was going as commando as I was--- and that red tank top, made it
evident the massive amounts of wonderfully dark, thick hair all over his
body. As for his back, lats and delts--whether he had them shaved or waxed,
looked to be the only beefy flesh visible that was mostly hairless. The
optimum word there was 'visible.' Everything about him, even his vast
quads, were covered with the same density of his pecs and abs....literally,
a curly-haired, black shag. And, geez, did I want to shag him... right then
and there! That tanned skin almost made those shorts glow. My spew was
ready...

Without appearing too obvious in drooling over this guy---as he did some
warm-ups on the circuit's butterfly machine, I noticed the immense veins
poppin' even through the heavy forest of hair. Forearms like I like that
look like they belong on a baseball slugger who plays second base.
Undersides of his arms leading up to his biceps had a nice thickness...  as
I imagined the thickness of another muscle of his. But I fell in lust with
the most artistically-shaped, pulsar pits. At that point, I knew his ass
had to be a prize to behold, kiss, lick, finger, rim wet and ream hard!

Being the weight room was a separate, more private space around the corner
from the main workout/ circuit area, it was so much easier to admire this
furry stud when we were alone. After periodically ending up working out
around him for a month or so, we began spotting each other's benches. That,
of course, really made me hard afterwards as I got highly intoxicated from
his man-musk and teasing views up the sides of his sometimes loose-fitting
shorts. More times than not--lately, especially, I knew he was going
commando. Definitely showed on his fully-thick cock head. And since he
struck me as the type that didn't have to jack-off, he always looked like
his meat was cocked, loaded and semi-hard. In other words, lock 'n' load!
Here it cums!

I wished!

I still remember a couple times when he was jock-less, that we were
sweating so good, that when I slipped under the bar, position my hands for
the lift and begin to concentrate on the "easy weight," I would feel
wetness on my forehead and (face)cheeks. In peering in the direction of the
drops, I would be staring up in the right, black concave of his
unrestrained, onion running shorts and his dense pubes were draining
themselves. Sometimes, he would be wearing his veiny cock and lemon-shaped,
hairy balls on that side, and his one-eyed monster would be leaking not
only sweat, but pre-cum, and balls that were sweatin' a miniature rivulet.

At those times, I'd look towards his face---up beyond that barrel chest
sticking his tank out---and he was looking down on me, his wet face with
one of those nasty, evilly-fun smirks. But so many times after burning the
final set, I would sit up on the edge of the bench, watching him walk
around watching me feeling my hard-on pushing down against my left quad,
trying to make it go down. That was a real challenge and not make it seem
obvious. I think by that time, I was beginning to get tired of hiding how I
was so turned on to this guy. Fuck society and their fucked up way of
having to play these stupid games. I wanted this guy. End of sentence! Why
can't I just come out and say that without wasting time playing the "beat
around our thick bushes?"

I knew HE knew that river of pre-cum soaking through my shorts(or sweats)
was for him. As smart as he was, he must of known, but he was SO cool about
it. So unimpassioned, in a nice way, of course. Kevin didn't possess any
type of prima-donna attitude, especially about his hot looks. He knew it,
but he'd have to have seen my growth while still laid down on the bench,
yet, I caught him a number of times staring at my tenting bulge as he
positioned himself under the bar to lift.

By that time in our workouts, the aroma of pre-cum, sweat, testosterone and
wanton man-sex was absolutely excellent, with a capital 'X'. I never asked,
but he must have also noticed and it used to embarrass me to smell that-and
silently delight in, when it was just us in the weight room. I did finally
learn to completely enjoy not only that nose-candy, but enjoy the time with
Kevin and his potency.  It all became so natural. These two very hairy,
muscular otters working on every muscle and sweating it out in the process,
rubbing up against each other as they traded spaces on the towel-covered
bench.

We not only became friendly, but buds... even ending up scheduling workouts
together... and talking comfortably about almost everything between
sets--from SportsCenter to politics to current events. Not to mention,
slapping each other on our naked, sweaty shoulders. Through this process of
developing a more deeper friendship, I even tried to sway the conversation
towards sex, just to see which side of the fence he stood, but he was too
sharp to enlighten me to that part of himself. Those brains--added to his
brawn, were a further turn-on. He WAS very open on a general basis about
talking sex--which I liked, always telling me how horny he was at that
moment, and admitted that he was always horny... and that made me even more
crazy with lust for Kev.

With our friendship, I, also, noticed something else. He seemed to direct
the subject away from sex when our eyes would meet, and one of us went to
do a set. He never talked about the ladies or a girlfriend-which should
have been my cue at the time, so if his cock was pussy-dipped, he didn't
indicate it. But, then again, his cock, possibly, being pussy-dipped only
fueled my fire more, making my piece shift every time I looked at him
lifting and fantasizing of him fucking and cumming into some chic, then
sucking his cock afterwards to clean off the hot, wet juices of the horny
lovers, her sitting on my dick, while he ate the cream dripping from her
cunt. I don't mind saying, I did some HARD cumming two or three times when
I got home, thinking and doing some rare jacking to the thoughts about
being THAT close and yearning and smelling and burning to be even
closer. Burning to want to blow him, but just decided to blow him off as
just that hot fantasy, and if it happens, it happens. Well, I blew it
off...till, maybe, six weeks later...

A humid, hot, sultry Sunday afternoon. The temp and the humidity outside
had to have been both 90-95. By the time I arrived at the gym, it was 3:30
and there were just a couple vehicles in the parking lot. One vehicle was
Kev's SUV. Walking in, the smooth, muscular, dark blond stud at the
reception desk informed me the air conditioner was out all over the gym and
that he just wanted me to know that. The lights were all on so I didn't see
no air as a problem. I didn't bother telling him that's how I keep my home,
even in that heat. So my snug T and jeans were pretty glued even more to my
leanness from just the drive in, not using the car air, either. So the
weather climate within the gym was perfect, especially considering how much
I enjoy "fresh" manscent and the fresh, hard workout aromas of other men
around me.

As the stud looked me up and down, he reminded me of their 6:00 closing
time on Sunday, looking over his shoulder, through a small window, into the
main workout area, and there wasn't one person working out. Without giving
the stud a inch of public appreciation---which I think made him hornier, I
took my ID card back from the cock-throb with a mouth I could have
face-fucked in a New York minute, but digressed to save it for the workout.

"Take care of that bulge, you jock fucker?" in a tone that was almost a
moan as he leaned on the counter. It was tempting, as hot looking as those
full-lips were, I knew from reputation it would be a breath-taking blowjob,
though I would turn it into fucking and lubricating that throat. Always
horny for that, but did want to save that testosterone for a couple hours.

"I AM a jock fucker so when I'm done sweatin'," I breathed just as hard as
I leaned closer to his lips and whispered, "I'll not bother showering and
come out here, prop you on this counter, and rape both your holes."

"Fuuuuuuck!" I heard him moan-as if he was cumming in his sweats, as I
walked away to the right and up the hall towards the locker room, not
bothering to turn to check his reaction as I knew he was watching my
ass. I'd be doing that college jock ass a favor, but I AM such a fuckin'
tease, I thought. But since I aspire to higher integrity, though--and not
that creepy, if he was still interested later--if a CERTAIN hotter offer
didn't materialize before, I had all intentions of holding to my word to
that guy, just maybe not quite on that counter top in front of the door,
though. Okay, maybe, under the counter...

At that, I checked my gym bag to make sure I had my water bottle. I
did. But, as I entered the locker room, though, something told me I
wouldn't be needing it. I stood at the threshold of the locker room for a
second listening for sounds, taking in the most hormonal aroma of a locker
room. I laid my head back on my shoulders and closed my eyes and thought
how wonderful that aroma was. And that "smell" had aged even better when
taken into consideration with no air conditioning, air stagnation, and no
circulation, every parts of men sweating even more.

As I walked over to my usual spot---which was at the end of a row of
lockers on the other side from the showers and steam room, I noticed the
aroma sure got my cock hard. I really didn't need poppers--or anything else
mind-altering, to get me that hard and ready. But, then again, I hadn't cum
or gotten laid in a couple weeks. And Kevin just made my juices churn a
million times harder and faster and plentiful.  At that point, I noticed a
shower running. Then I looked down on the locker room bench and noticed
clothes laid out. Kevin! In all the time I had known him, worked out around
him, we rarely had taken a shower at the same time. For my horniness, it
was safer that way, but usually his routine was-depending on the day of the
week, to go back to his office or his home, I think, and take a shower. And
now that I thought about it, it was interesting that on days we worked out,
he'd split before the shower, usually hiding as much of his bulge as he
could. So him taking a shower that day was kinda contrasting his norm, but
I wasn't going to argue.

Then, my heart started racing and my cock got harder. I was about to go to
another row of lockers-or even leave altogether, when the shower shut off
and I sat down real quick pretending to get undress to change into some
tight shorts. Without looking up, as I was afraid I'd get harder, I could
hear the familiar sound of a towel being massaged over a wet, hairy
body... Lucky towel.... I mean it was so quiet, you could of heard cum
splatter on a hairy chest. Crap! That got me harder. As I bent over to try
to make my cock go down, around the corner behind me comes Kevin.

"Shit, Dane! Didn't know anyone was here!" I had my back to him, but I
could almost swear he had his towel off. Obviously, he didn't expect it to
me, considering I didn't know if I could pull away over that weekend to
workout, so we left it up in the air.

"Sorry, Kev," almost jokingly, putting my bag in the locker, thinking it
was best not to look up.

"I thought I was still the only one here..." going to and opening his
creaky locker door, which was directly across the bench from mine. I cocked
my "big" head to the right just enough to confirm that--in all his male
confidence, his towel was rapped around his neck. He didn't need to cover
up. Fuck, I thought, why should he with a bod like that?!

"I just got here," I declared, standing to slide off my 501s, looking up
into his masculine face, that dark stubble accenting perfectly his strong
face. Whether it was still water from the shower or sweat re-forming, my
eyes took a quick glancing tour down his neck, pecs, and abs and zeroed in
the most lustful sight of wet hair. I wanted to nest in his ab hair. I
rapidly looked back up his upper torso to his smiling eyes locked in on MY
eyes' every movement. I just as quickly turned my head towards my
locker. My heart was doing the four-forty. My cock was so hot, it was
screaming "fire!" My heart slowed, though, to pounding like war drums. I
was sweating, and it JUST wasn't because of no air. I could NOT believe how
shy I was, considering I had just been flirting with blond stud, probably
because I knew that guy's intentions and didn't have a friendship and
history with him I cared about and didn't want to ruin just because I was
horny. I do have higher integrity as the friendship was more important. I
can always jack off for relief-or go find some bottom real quick like the
blond stud, for that matter-but Kev's kind of friendship didn't come along
everyday.

All the time I stood to unbutton my jeans and slide them down, I could feel
him procuring me like a side of beef. Okay, yeah, I sorta liked that. This
beautiful hunk of man-flesh was literally staring a hole in my head...my
big head, though I could feel him searching for my small head. Geez, I
thought, how I loved - already - this guy's animalistic lustfulness. He
fuckin' reeked in masculinity lust! I could smell it! And as I sat back
down to pull off my Nikes and jeans, I could see, out of the corner of my
eye, him trying to get a glance at my bulge, which was putting on a private
show at full throttle and pre-cum soaking my well-worn, great smellin'
jock, having already dampen my jeans.

Granted, I still wasn't sure about his sexual orientation, but those
glances of his, somewhat, was confirming my gaydar. OR he was like me, a
sexual oriented individual... no labels, no pigeon-holing into one gender
if we didn't want to. Okay, bi-sexual... but not totally feeling like that
hormonal song from "South Pacific"..."There is Nothing Like a Dame." There
actually IS something other than, but, hey, when it came to sex, a
good-looking hole's a hole, a hot pussy's pussy--no matter the
gender. Since he was always horny, hungry and lookin' to get laid, his
confidence always gave me the feeling that if he was just into sex, period!
No apologies! And when into man-sex, he just 'felt' like a top, which are
the type of studs I like seeing on their knees deep-throating me or having
their jock feet over my shoulders in the air above my head. Speaking of
heads, I could feel my cock's mushroom move down my leg, so that building
testosterone level, I think, is how I became more sure and/or more bolder.

My cock's fountain made me not even care if I made a move and he'd kicked
my ass. If it destroyed our friendship, then maybe it wasn't strong enough
bond to be worth forging through time, anyway. At the same time, though my
heartbeat was ready to retreat, as I really liked our friendship. I liked
HIM very much, not just because he was a hot stud on the outside. I lusted,
okay, but if he's not into any type of sex with me then I hoped he just
take my impending forwardness as a compliment and file it away under future
ways to get fucked-regardless if he's a self-proclaimed top, or receive a
mind-blowing blow job. A sexual release, anyway...a stress-buster...!

Then...all of sudden-like a flash, I became more comfortable being around
him than I ever did in the past few months. All of sudden... the next step
was pre-destined and very natural and right..and the light went on. That
was great considering taking a deep breath, Kev's manly aromas were raping
my nose with the most enjoyable maleness, even after his shower. I wanted
to tell him that his aroma was sending me signals that he's perfectly ripe
for the pickin' (and right for other things)! His body hairs giving off his
testosterone like Niagara Falls in uninhibited bliss of natural body
perfume, and adding to the already horniest smells one locker room could
give off. With my heart pumping all the blood to the South Pole, no wonder
I was feeling lightheaded... lightheaded from lust as I bent over to
positioned my shoes in the bottom of the locker and folded my 501s on top
of them. As I raised back and took up the tight, white T-shirt over my
head, my right elbow hit something fleshy, yet firm. As I threw my shirt in
on top of my jeans, I turned ever so slightly into the most wonderful two
mounds of man flesh. Almost completely covered in black, curly hair, parted
in the middle of this most awesome, tanned asshole. My hot tongue HAD to
have it and needed to explore. It was so dark in that cunt, I was droolin',
and my cock was UNbelievably hard to that point of discomfort, but it was
that good kind of pain.

Kevin was bending over to wipe his legs and calves, and, very much, bumping
me with his ass. He was such a fuckin' tease---geez, worse than me, thank
you very much---as he knew full well by that time he had every fiber in my
body wanting him. But the fucker was bending down WAY too long to wipe his
lower extremities, so teasing me he knew what I'd do. As if he knew my
impulses better than I knew my own. Of course, it would have really pissed
me off if he was straight and teasing me like that. HIS juicy cunt was just
inches from my head, dripping with sweat, water, and hair, the aroma from
his balls and his hole was almost enough to make me cum. At that sight - at
that point - I could NOT hold out any longer. I thought the hell with this
"control" shit! I fuckin' had to have him, so I turned towards his ass
cheeks and it became apparent--as the seconds ticked by, these two horny
otters looked like one human hair ball connected at a piece of beefy ass.

At the first touch of the tip of my tongue to his innermost part, just
inside his tight ass lips, there was this most beautiful song that vibrated
through the locker room. Kev reared his (big) head back and let out the
most guttural groan. I'm surprised the blond stud didn't hear and
cum... and then come running, but fuck! It was the most astounding sex
audible I'd heard in a long time. So deep. So manly. So hot!!! I guess if
the blond had cum running, we probably would have made room for him.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm..." was all I heard, all I wanted to hear. As if drilling
for oil, his reaction was my 'oil'...my prize...or at least one of my
prizes.

At that point, I knew I had him and had made a proficient first move,
finally taking matters into my own hands. But he did, too, with reaching
his right hand around to the back of my head, to push my head and tongue
further up his ass. As he did, I spread his cheeks further apart to get my
tongue as far as I could up that bowlful of hair and sweat. In splitting
Kev's hole with both my thumbs and massaging his prostate with my wet, hot
tongue, I was flossing my front teeth with his long crack hair. I must have
eaten him out for what felt like at least a half an hour-if not longer. I
lost track of time, but it's not like anyone was disturbing us. It was
rather odd no one came into the locker room, but I wasn't going to argue,
really wanting this man to myself and wanting nothing to break this magical
spell. So knowing me, I had no reason to quit seductively lapping up his
manly tastes enjoyed so much by my tongue. Of course, his body's aroma was
STILL driving my cock to strain and soak my jock with even more copious
amounts of creamy pre-cum. I don't think my hormones or pre-cum ever
reacted to a man in such a large volume of output before actually cumming.

I was bubbling up some pretty thick juice also tickling my craving nose
which, at that moment, was taking pleasure from in-between this stud's
steamy wanting hole. It was like Kev had waited way too long for this to
happen. WE had waited far too long for this to cum to fruition, but with
the way he grounded my head up his ass as far as my tongue would go, you'd
think this was a part of life that he had to have. And, at that thought, I
hoped THAT was true, as I had never experienced a more cleaner and
fantastic tasting and smelling ass...wanting that feast to go on all
night... wanting to satisfy this Man anyway I could, tonguing his
pucker-rosebud and driving him into sexual orbit. I knew I had to do
something about taking that ass as mine and fucking him every which way but
loose. I'd tie him down if I had to, and rape and ream... but bottom or
top, that ass would have more in it than my tongue. It was not only time to
make this tight, underused asshole into a man's hole, but it was ripe and
ready to breed this otter. Testosterone on testosterone. Real Man on Real
Man. To make him feel like the man he is, glad he's fuckin' turned on to
men, and seed him with the most snow-whitest jock batter he'd ever see and
feel dripping out him. Then, for me, to enjoy his wet, sperm-filled pussy,
a man's creamypie, lapping and felching, making him cum again and again,
wanting me to fuck him even more and ream him even harder.

With both his hands now holding my head securely in place, forcing his ass
back into my wet face, grinding me further into his crack---if that was
possible, was when I heard a deep, sepulchral moan that he was cumming,
without even touching himself. I was having such a passionate time in his
hairy bowl of ass, that his stiff dick, and fully loaded balls, were
fending for themselves for the time being. I love it when that happens,
though, knowing I touched his buttons without actually touching his
cock. So fuckin' HOT!!

As his body's spasms subsided, his seductive, low tone became one long moan
as he turned full-frontal and his meaty, dripping cock was bouncing at my
wanting lips. Like the vacuum I am, I never let that (about) seven inch
tube-steak get soft. With one big suction maneuver of my throat muscles I
yanked that prime cut halfway into my mouth, cleaning up the thick, creamy
drops of cum off the crown of his juicy mushroom head, making it even more
juicer. While he loudly moaned again in pleasure--throwing his head back
again, making me even more ignitable. Wanting his cum in my mouth this
time, I was determined to milk him dry a couple times in that locker room,
but I think he had the same feelings about wanting, yearning and needing
more from me. Through those orgasmic moans of his---being so drunk with
ecstasy, did I hear him barely formulate the words about getting dressed
and getting to his place. He softly pushed my face off his dripping-again
cock as I licked my lips of some of his residual cum and sweat.

Never taking our eyes off each other--in record time, we were dressed,
though, neither of us bothered putting on shirts. So in slinging our gym
bags over our shoulders, we ran hand-in-hand out of the locker room, down
the hall, pass the blond stud. I stopped at the front door and in almost a
leap back to the cutie, I looked in his shocked face and assured him that I
would take a rain check on that fuck. In confidently nodding to him and
smiling, I ran back to Kev's up-stretched arm--turning me on, again, with
that sweaty pit, to high-five me as we burst out the door.