Porn Prowl
by Jon

     Let me tell you about Skip Morgan:  How his big thick cock
was straining against his pants leg, and his sweet, melon-shaped
butt cheeks were shifting hornily against his leather
seat.  Skip's a gym-buffed 25-year-old. Blond haired, blue eyed,
fine featured, Skip looks like an ivy-league heir to comfort and
fortune, which he is, but he's also a super horny young
studdums with an unquenchable thirst for cock.  Skip's a junior
attorney at a fancy downtown firm, the most junior, in fact.  He
should be thrilled by his job but he's not, he's bored and
horny, horny as hell.  Right now he's surfing the Net, looking
for free pictures of hot naked guys with monster dicks and
washboard abs, and reading steamy stories about queer sex acts,
the lewder the better.  A healthy load is building in Skipper's
nuts, sperm and semen are perking in his big low-hangers, and a
rising itch of lust has, as I've told you, caused his thick
and veiny dong to push restlessly against the thin cloth of his
Calvins and the even thinner fabric of his suit. The
eraser-shaped nubs of his quarter-sized nipples also rub
teasingly against his undershirt as Skip greedily devours the
following story:

     The Uncle took the Nephew to the swimming hole.  All the way
there the Boy secretly admired his tall Uncle's beefy bod, hairy
wrists, tree-trunk thighs, and bulging groin.  The Uncle
remembered how sexed up a youngster can be, and resolved to have
some sport with the Boy.  The Uncle suggested that they skinny
dip; the Boy, secretly thrilled, agreed. Afterwards, sun bathing
themselves dry on a ledge by the pond, the Uncle's cock ratcheted
up to a full hardon.  He made no effort to hide it from the Boy. 
Instead, he brought the conversation around to sex by remarking
on the Boy's budding growth of pubic and armpit hair.  The Uncle
asked the Boy if the Boy's dick ever got hard like his own
bobbing monster cock.  The Boy told him yes, but not that large. 
The Uncle invited the Boy to touch it.  The Boy was shy at first,
then agreed.  The Boy's smooth young fingers couldn't make a
complete circle around the Uncle's butt-buster.  The Uncle asked
the Boy where he thought the most sensitive part was.  After a
few mistakes, the Boy got it right, and as if by instinct started
to jerk the Uncle off with his slender fist holding the most
sensitive spot on the massive dick. The Uncle returned the favor
and started rubbing the boy's cock with his own more practiced
grip.  After a while (long enough to explain the lubrication
value of the pre-come that was by then freely drooling from his
purple cock head) the Uncle shot his load, which he allowed the
Boy to touch and to taste. Using the come as lube, he quickly
brought the well roused youngster off.  The Uncle asked the Boy
if he'd like to go swimming again soon.  The Boy enthusiastically
agreed, and the Uncle looked forward of a summer of instruction
in jack-off techniques, and eventually in sucking and fucking.    
 
     Skip can't resist going on to another story.  Although his
work is pressing, so is his dickhead against his suit leg.  A
thin line of sweat runs down the hairy cleft of his succulent
ass.  Skip's tank tee hugs his torso like a sausage casing, and
Skip wonders if he dares loosen his tie, but becomes distracted
when he clicks on the following tale:

     A number of guys from an accounting firm attended a large
conference, including the firm's two young muscle-studs, Biff and
Bobby.  These guys were hot, and most of the women (and not a few
of the men) in the office secretly liked to imagine them naked. 
When Biff, Bobby, and the rest of the group got to the conference
hotel, it turned out that one too few rooms had been reserved. 
The desk clerk was sorry, but because of the conference, no
extra rooms were available.  What was to be done?  Gamely,  Bobby
and Biff agreed to share a room;  after all, each room had two
beds.  After dinner and drinks, everyone turned in for
the night.  Bobby had a secret crush on Biff, so he modestly
changed in the bathroom, but Biff just stripped naked, and when
he took a long piss he didn't shut the door.  It was still
fairly early, so the two hunky studs agreed to watch some TV. 
Soon Biff found the pay-per-view porn channel.  Under the guise
of curiosity they agreed to watch it, and before long both
Biff and Bobby had sprung erections under the sheets.  Biff said
"Aw shucks, I'm not gonna be able to sleep like this, let's just
whack off and get some rest."  Bobby was hot to see Biff's
hardon, and presently they were propped up, each man alone in his
own bed, fisting their throbbing cocks.  Bobby and Biff watched
some chick get her pussy reamed out by a porn star's horse-dick
until he shot on her cunt lips.  Then Biff said, "Come here and
suck on my cock, Bobby, I've watched you secretly eyeing it and I
know you want to."  In Bobby's heart,fear of humiliation briefly
battled against the lust for Biff's cock. Lust won.  Bobby
followed his rigid prong across the narrow divide and onto Biff's
bed, and knelt to take Biff's big piece in his mouth.  Biff drew
up his legs and spread his hairy thighs to give Bobby access. 
Bobby could hardly accommodate Biff's huge dick in his mouth.  He
held the base with his fist to keep from choking on it as he
licked and sucked and sniffed.  With his other hand he rubbed
his own raging hardon, his fist dragging down on the sensitive
flesh.  Up and down he sucked the head and shaft, while Biff
murmured encouragement, telling Bobby how good it felt,
telling him not to stop.  Bobby felt like he had to shoot soon. 
Biff's huge cock seemed to get even huger and harder for a
moment, then it puked out jet after jet of white steaming come
into Bobby's eager mouth.  Bobby swallowed every drop of the
pulsing syrup while he sprayed the sheets of Biff's bed with his
own heavy load.  Before they fell asleep cuddling together in
Bobby's bed, Biff told Bobby he had guessed Bobby was hot for
him, and that Biff, acting on this hunch, had himself called the
hotel to arrange for one fewer room. The two handsome young men
became fast friends.                 

     These stories are getting me fuckin' horny, thinks Skip.  He
can't resist giving his mammoth dick a friendly squeeze.   I
promise you, buddy, we're gonna fuck tonight, Skip tells his
aching cock.  But who?  Skip runs through his mental rolodex. 
Maybe Rafi.  Rafi is a slender but built Indian guy, dark, with
swirls of shiny black hair on his chest and legs. Rafi knows a
thing or two about fucking, and has spent many a pleasurable hour
with Skip. Skip imagines in his mind's eye how he and Rafi sit
cross-legged together, with a finger up each others' asses while
the fingers of their free other hand delicately strum and fret
the shaft of each others' dicks.  Rafi likes to play
new-age-sounding Indian music while they gently massage each
others' cocks and buttholes.  Rafi can keep Skip in an agony of
almost-ejaculating for the better part of an hour.  Then they
shoot prodigious gobs of ball-juice all over the bed, the walls,
and each other. Yeah, Rafi knows a thing or two about cock
massage,thinks Skipper, but tonight Skip fancies a bit more of
the old in-and-out, push-and-pull stuff.  

     Maybe Tommy then.  Tommy is a Southern mountain boy whose
joy in life is to get radically butt-fucked.  There's nothing
passive about Tommy.  He likes to sit up and down on
Skip's dick, faster and faster, until he shoots his geyser of
jizz.  Skip loosens him up first with a lubed finger, then two. 
Then Tommy impales himself on Skip's dildo-sized meat
stick, settling down into the pubey bush, before lifting up to
the mushroom head.  Faster and faster he goes, sometimes straight
up and down, but sometimes at a slight angle, so Skip's cock
shears mightily along the sensitive walls of his gut.
Occasionally, in his enthusiasm, Tommy pulls himself up off
Skipper's cock altogether.  When that happens, he grabs the
dancing truncheon with both hands, works the bulbous tip back
into his hole, settles down onto Skip's lap again, and starts to
fuck himself more demonically than before.  Meanwhile Skip likes
to arch his back and twist his own nipples back and forth,
pulling and torturing the swollen paps.  Tommy fervently tells
Skip to fuck him harder, as if it were Skip and not himself that
was doing all the work.  "Fuck it in me man, fuck my hole man,
fuck the shit out my hole, man, ram it, aw, RAM that motherfuckin
dick up in there, yeah, aw yeah, RAM it man, fuck it right out my
motherfuckin MOUTH, man."  When he gets close to the edge,
Tommy's exhortations sometimes take on a prayerful tone; he says
"Oh mercy, oh mercy, FUCK me, man, Jesus, Jesus, mercy . . " 
Both men would be running sweat by then, jerking and humping. 
Often when Tommy comes his spunk hits the ceiling, while Skip's
own gushing sperm fills his rubber like a water balloon.  Yeah,
Tommy would do just fine tonight, thinks Skip.  But for now he
clicks on another story.

     A bunch of men were in a smokey strip-joint near the Mexican
border.  Some of the guys were military, some not.  A stripper,
no longer young, did her act, finally running a string of colored
spangles up between her cunt lips.  By the time she did her last
bump-and-grind, every dick in the place was rutting hot.  For the
finale, a brawny guy in a spangled outfit strutted on stage, tore
off his clothes, and fucked the woman, first in her cunt, and
then up her butt.  By then most of the men were hooting and
pawing at their dicks.  Some even had them out and were openly
jerking off.   When the lights went up, two tall, dark-haired
army guys with five o'clock shadows suggested to Buddy, a
tourist, that they go look for some pussy together.  Buddy was a
smooth-chested blond guy who thought of himself as pretty well
built, but he felt puny besides the strapping soldiers. One of
the army men suggested they go up to their room in the rundown
shabby hotel and call a hooker whose number he had.  Buddy bought
a six pack to contribute to the party.  Once upstairs they
called the whore, who said she'd be there in five minutes.  The
three horny men started working on the brew.  It became evident
the hooker wasn't going to show.  The dark army guys began
squeezing their turgid dicks through their uniforms.  One of them
said he sure needed to come bad.  Buddy grew uncomfortably aware
that he was smaller and younger than the others, and blond, and
started to say maybe they should call it a night.  But it was too
late.  The over-stimulated soldiers moved in on Buddy.  Buddy
said "Hey, guys, I'm not, like, into this" but the two hunky army
men stripped him buck naked in practically no time.  One held
Buddy down while the other forced his huge cock into Buddy's ass,
which he fucked like a piston before withdrawing and shoving his
hard piece into Buddy's mouth.  Buddy nearly gagged when he had
to swallow the greasy cock that had been up his asshole,
otherwise it wasn't too bad.  After he came in Buddy's mouth the
two soldiers switched places.  When each of the army guys had
come they brought Buddy off too, even though it was only by a
hand job.  Buddy thought they would despise him because of the
way they had used him, but the soldier hunks just tousled his
hair and said he was an honorary member of the U.S Army now, and
that such treatment was a common part of hazing new recruits. 
They parted as friends.   

     By now Skip's dick is almost shooting down his pants. 
Precome stains the dark material of his suit, it feels like his
dick is leaking buckets.  It is too much for Skip to bear,
he has to shoot a load right now, he'll have plenty left for
later.  A desperate plan forms in Skipper's brain.  Hearing
nothing in the hall, he carefully folds a sheet of paper to catch
the spermy load he's about produce.  Then Skip unzips his
pants--quietly, quietly--and liberates his straining member.  He
leans back, fingers the cockhead, and starts to whip it in short
quick strokes. O, it feels so good, so good, like paradise.  The
pleasurable feeling becomes stronger and more focussed.  Just
then comes a sharp wrap at his door, and before Skip knows what's
happening, Mr. Samsonov, a partner in the law firm, has stuck his
head in the door.  Samsonov comprehends the situation in a flash
and growls, "What's this, Morgan, we can't have our junior
attorneys beating off in their offices . . . alone."  The last
word strikes a ray of hope through Skip's horror.  Samsonov tells
Skip to come into his office for immediate discipline.  Skip
follows Samsonov down the hall and precedes him into the large
and distinguished office, hardly daring to hope he can buy Mr.
Samsonov's discretion with a blow job.  Samsonov tells Skip that
his offence was childish and deserves a childish punishment,
and orders Skip to drop his pants.  Samsonov tells Skip to bend
over his massive desk so he can administer punishment.  Before
long, Skip's bubble butt reddens from the sharp spanking he
receives.  And then something surprising happens -- the spanking
stops, and Samsonov sticks his thumb up Skip's asshole instead. 
Samsonov starts hooking his thumb around, rubbing and punching
the thumb against Skip's prostate, hard.  Skip looks back and up,
twisting his trunk slightly, so he can see the expression on the
older man's face, but avoids any sudden motion that might
discourage the delicious finger-fuck.  But it is not Mr.
Samsonov who is administering the sweet torture.  It is Skip's
very own Father whose thumb is twisting and stabbing so lewdly up
his hole.  Skip stares in disbelief.  It cannot be.  "Dad?!?" he
says, "Dad??  Dad?!!! Da-ad??!??  DAD???"

     "Hush, son, I'm right here."  Skip awoke to see the early
morning sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window, and his
father bending over beside his bed.  Only a few gray hairs
mingled with Mr. Morgan's blond crop; Skip was his eldest and
he'd started young.   "I . . . I must have been dreaming"  said
Skip, propping himself up on an elbow.  "You can say that again,
Skipper," his father replied, sitting next to Skip on the bed. 
"Sleeping in your old bed again must've gotten to you."  Mr.
Morgan was wearing tartan plaid flannel pajama bottoms but no
top, his usual combination, and Skip once again admired the pelt
of blond chest hair that grew around his Dad's pink and nubby
nipples, and drew to an ever finer line pointing south.  Skip
became awkwardly aware that his sexy dream had left him with a
five-alarm erection that was tenting up the sheet.  Looking down
he noticed that his father's giant dick was also poking out
through the piss slit of his pajamas, totally hard and flexing to
his heartbeat.  It was an awkward moment. Not to make some joke
and get out of bed was to acquiesce to what was about to happen. 
His heart pounding, Skip sat still, struck dumb by the taboo
urges he sensed and felt.  Skip's inaction told Mr. Morgan all he
needed to know.  His son was allowing things to run their course;
the moment was his to seize.  

     "Skipper," he said, "Do you remember how when you were a
little boy I used to put you to bed?"   "Yeah Dad" said Skip in a
strangulated voice.  His father put his massive-muscled arm
around the young man's shoulders, and kissed him tenderly on each
eye.  Skip kept his eyes shut, a faint whiff of manly after-shave
in his nostrils.  His father then moved his lips down to Skips
mouth and kissed him on the lips, gently urging his son's mouth
open and sticking in his tongue.  In a daze Skip licked his
father's tongue, teeth, and gums.  He felt his dad's hand draw
back the sheet and begin lightly but insistently jerking on his
twitching dick.  Seconds later his cock erupted in long streams
of come juice that splashed first his chin and then his ribs
before spasming out onto his belly, and finally running weakly
into his bush.  Skip lay back with his eyes still closed,
breathing deeply, wiped.  He felt the bed jiggle under him.  Mr.
Morgan, standing, was steadying his legs against the bed as he
jacked his own weighty cock over his son's prone body.  Skip kept
his eyes closed.  The spent young man was radiant in the morning
light, garlanded in pearly come.  Skip felt repeated blasts of
piping hot semen, his father's semen, rain down on him.  

     His cock stirred again and Skip for a second madly hoped his
dad would allow him to fuck him.  The image of his father lying
face down on the bed, allowing Skip to part his beefy butt, was
heart-stopping.  But when he opened his eyes, his father had left
the room. Skip carefully wiped the drizzling come off his face,
chest, and thighs, and headed for the shower.  After all, he was
the hot-shot new junior attorney at his firm, and he had a busy
day before him.  In the shower, Skip considered whether it might
not be a good idea to postpone his search for a one-bedroom
apartment downtown.  After all, Rafi and Tommy and the rest
of the guys were only too happy to entertain him at their
apartments, and a whole new world of possibilities argued for
living at home, at least for a few more months.