Date: Tue, 21 Jan 2014 08:47:14 -0500
From: Mads van Duessen <madsvand@gmail.com>
Subject: Gym Stretch Part 03

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The first installment of Gym Stretch started with . . .

I was close to finished stretching in my gym's free-style area, when I
noticed a HOT older guy who I'd seen around campus.  He shucked off his
hoodie and was ready to go, starting his own stretching routine across, on
the other side of the same area I was stretching in.  And when I say HOT
. . .

And the second ended with Jack and me in the shower after two wild fucks
. . .

I hadn't realized it was quite so loud . . . or that I still had a grip on
our cocks.  I let go, Jack moaning a bit when I did.  Then he went over to
a shelf outside the shower and yanked out two huge fluffy gray towels and
flung one at me.  "FOOD!" he said sternly.

I reluctantly let the towel unfold and was about to start drying myself
when Jack wrapped his towel around me.  As he rubbed me he looked into my
eyes and said, "Can I have some dessert after we eat?" and grabbed my ass.

"YOU FUCKING KNOW IT!" I said before I could even think.

Part 3 – Gym Stretch

Not for the first time since I'd followed Jack to his apartment from the
gym that late afternoon I wondered WHAT THE FUCK I was doing.  Sure, I
tricked – I tricked a lot – well, ALL I did was trick, actually, so
hooking up with a hot guy I just met at the gym wasn't the issue.  And he
WAS hot.  And dirty, as I saw when he was stretching and purposely pushed
himself farther when he saw I was watching him, far enough for me to see
his balls and cock hanging out the leg of his workout shorts because he was
working out commando!  His build was all lean muscle and angles, a bit over
six feet, furry, beautiful brown hair, and did I mention definitely a dirty
sexy man?  No, that I'd come to his apartment and let him fuck me
mercilessly into senselessness – twice! – was NOT the problem.

What was the problem – were the problems, actually, because they are
several – the problemS were that he'd busted through a couple of my
barriers AND was nice to me AND, to make matters worse, had me wanting to
not leave him.  Usually when he was done shooting, I was done with him and
dressing and heading out, or handing him his clothes to dress and GET OUT
if he was at my place.  But Jack, well, as he toweled me off, I frankly was
having trouble thinking about how I'd get through the moment when his hands
weren't all over me.

And that was just the last issue swirling on a secondary track in my
fuck-scrambled brain.  It started with him kissing me.  I NEVER kiss when
I'm tricking.  I have no idea why, but I just don't.  But when he kissed
me, I let him . . . and I loved it, loved the way he kissed me, the way we
kissed each other, wanted more and took more . . . and more.

In fact, right then Jack leaned in and kissed me softly on my lips.  He
moved apart from my lips, and for the – well however many time that
afternoon – he put his forehead against mine.  "You've got a lot going
on in your head, Mads.  Everything OK?" he asked.

BUSTED!  "Uh, well, actually – " I stammered.

To that Jack wrapped me tightly in his arms and kissed my neck.  "This," he
said and stopped.  I was uncomfortable by him stopping, but his arms around
me were strangely comforting.  Finally he nuzzled my neck and asked, "This
is too much, isn't it?" and held me a little tighter.

I had already gotten my arms free of the huge fluffy bath sheet he'd
wrapped around me and was holding him back.  And dammit if I ever wanted to
let him go.  "It's not too much, Jack, but it's a lot more than I expected
when you flashed me at the gym," I said, my brain giving me the assist to
take it to a lighter plane.

He shoved me back a little, laughing, and he said, "It worked, didn't it?
I took one look at you looking at me and thought, `Man, if I've got a shot
at THAT, I'm giving it my BEST shot for sure!"

"Oh, so you pegged me as a pervy slut who'd respond immediately if you
flashed your not inconsiderable junk at me?" I asked, feigning indignity as
the towel slipped the rest of the way off me and exposed my cock, again
hardening.

"UH," Jack said, obviously looking down at my growing excitement, "Well, I
wouldn't have put it that way, exactly.  I looked at you and said to
myself, "DAMN, I want him sweaty and moaning because I'm balls-deep in
him."

My breath caught at that . . . because that's basically exactly what I'd
hoped he was thinking when he flashed me . . . and because it was so
inadequate to describe the heights of ecstasy we'd shared twice already.
Not counting the attraction and the draw and the interaction and the
intimacy between us, both when we were fucking and before, between and
after.  Like now, for instance.  And –

Jack broke into my rampant thoughts.  "At least now your deep thoughts are
making you glow, not glower."

"I wasn't glowering!" I snapped.  And when Jack looked a little stunned at
the force of my retort I added, "Was I?  Really?"

Jack took the other towel from me and started toweling himself off.  DUH,
he was standing there this whole time, drying me, making me feel fucking
AWESOME, and I was wrapped up in my own head while he was probably catching
pneumonia!  OK, it wasn't cold at all in the bathroom – unlike the
bedroom, which was cool enough that we didn't drown in sweat during our
over-heated sexcapades – but still.  I snatched the huge towel from him
and wrapped him in it and started drying him, thoroughly enjoying the feel
of him . . . again.

I looked up from the attention I'd been paying to rubbing and dabbing him
and saw this his eyes were closed and his face had a beautiful smile on it.
And I melted . . . again.  Not only was Jack a damn handsome man, but right
then he was MY man!

OH FUCK, there I go.  First, the kissing.  Then there was this feeling of
wanting Jack to possess me at every level, something I never felt with a
trick, and hadn't felt with many men I had tried having relationships with.
And then there was the fact that I not only wasn't rushing to leave –
no, I didn't want to leave, I wanted to STAY!  Add to that the fact that my
previously well-ordered reality had NEVER had any dependency on physical
contact with a man after he was done blasting his seed, yet with Jack I
CRAVED being in physical contact with him.

"You're back there again."  I started at his sudden observation.  He had
this uncanny knack of reading me.  I'm sure I looked more like a deer in
the headlights than a very well-fucked slut right at that moment.  I bent
down and put my effort into drying Jack's legs and his incredible bubble
butt and then his amazing cock and furry huge low-hangers.

When I had no more of him to dry, he was just looking at me.  I felt
uncomfortable, a little guilty.  And right when that was about to spill
over into anger – because really, I DO NOT do this whole "intimate"
thing! – Jack put his hand on the side of my face, his warm palm melting
me.  "Mads, if you want to talk to me, I want to talk to you.  If not, I
only ask that you tell me if any of this wasn't what you wanted."

He sort of swallowed when he finished, and I'd thought he was going to say
something else.  When he didn't, I started to say something, but he put his
thumb gently over my mouth.  It felt as intimate to me as when he'd pressed
his lips against mine.  "Because, this wasn't what I expected, Mads.  It
was far more.  It was amazing, actually," he continued, his face now
beaming.  "It was fucking incredible!" he said forcefully, his eyes boring
into mine.  "And, frankly, I think we sparked something more.  At least I
hope we did."

I took a breath to say something – though I had absolutely no idea what
it was going to be – but that beautiful thumb that had felt so goddamn
good before was there again.  "Just let me say this, OK?" he asked, and I
kissed his thumb in response.  SHIT I was a goner, wasn't I?  His grin at
my kiss made me flush.  Yup, goner!  "So I feel like we sort of stumbled
into the deep end without our swim gear, and I'd like us to . . . well, I
don't know where to go with that analogy, so I'll just tell you I'd like to
talk about it, and I think you have some of the same on your mind and would
love it if you'd talk to me about it."

I turned my head and kissed his big warm palm.  "I tend to talk a lot over
a meal," I said, and as I did I rubbed my face against his palm, which
caused him to caress my face in a way that felt like exactly what I needed.
"And I make a lot more sense than the trash talk that comes out of my mouth
when I'm fucking," I added cheekily.  THAT was me!  But . . . this was all
me, both these feelings AND the cheeky slut.

Jack laughed with delight at my quip and threw the towels aside.  I
momentarily cringed as my eyes followed the towels onto the floor of the
vast shower space.  "Oh, so you're a neat freak, a sexually amazing neat
freak?" he asked, laughing.

"I, uh, well – " and he made no attempt to help me, just waited.  "Yeah,
I kind of am," I said, stooping to pick up the towels.

Jack slapped my ass playfully, which got an unnecessarily loud yelp from
me.  Then he rubbed my ass where he'd slapped it.  "I can work within those
parameters."

It sounded so right that he'd said he was fine with what obviously to him
was an idiosyncrasy of mine.  At the same time that secondary track in my
head shuddered and asked Mads, what the FUCK are you doing?

Jack walked out of the shower area and waited as I hung the broad bath
sheets on the hooks that seemed to be the place to put them.  Looking at
him standing there naked I admired him for a minute, and my desires
smoldered again, threatening to ignite.  DAMN, his body was so fucking HOT,
and he was so handsome!

Again he was in my head.  "C'mon," he said, putting out his hand.  "Food
first, then I'll pose for you all you want.  That is, if you will for me,"
he said with a smirk.

I took his hand and thought it was going to be awkward walking back to the
bedroom holding hands, but instead he pulled me to him and kissed me
quickly.  Then he asked, "I have no interest in putting on clothes.  What
about you?"

"Um, if it wasn't for it being a little cool out there when we were there
before," I started, but what I really wanted to say was that if me staying
naked was the price I had to pay for having Jack stay naked so I could ogle
him, then I'd become a nudist there and then.

"Then it's settled," Jack interjected.  "I hit the control to pump the heat
up a bit when we came in here after you'd commented on it being cool in the
bedroom on the off chance that you'd be staying a bit."

"I like a man who thinks of everything," I said, and I walked past him
toward the closet we'd come through thinking, Mads, you've gotten yourself
into something here!

It was warm in the rest of Jack's apartment, comfortably so despite being
butt naked.  I sat on a leather stool – Jack said, "Just be comfortable,
don't think about it," when I'd hesitated to sit on it naked – at a vast
green-amber granite island while Jack, amazingly, put together a feast.  Of
course, Jack's kitchen was worthy of Gordon Ramsey, might even awe Gordon,
as magnificent as it was.  Jack grilled vegetables on a down-draft grill in
the midst of an eight-burner stove, the vegetables having come from one of
two huge stand-up four feet wide refrigerators or one was a refrigerator
and the other was a freezer and washed the veggies in a sink in his island
that was bigger than my only sink in my kitchen.  When the veggies were
well along, he put two chicken breasts he'd taken out with the veggies and
had been marinating in something he whipped up so fast I didn't really
catch all the ingredients.  AND he washed and tossed a salad with a
light-looking vinaigrette that he, of course, mixed up himself.

To say I was impressed would be a vast understatement.  I was actually
quite intimidated.  And it wasn't only the kitchen and his skills in said
culinary castle.  His loft apartment, what I'd seen of it when I took a
better look on our way from the shower, was truly amazing.  It was vast,
beautifully furnished and decorated place – very masculine, but clearly
expensively appointed.  It was a bit like something I'd imagine an elegant
hotel suite or some billionaire's pied a terre would be.  I'd asked him
about it, and he graciously accepted the compliment, but he said he
couldn't take credit for it other than to have told a decorator what he
liked.

Jack had filled the conversation while he busied about the kitchen with
more questions about me than I could get in about him.  He knew two of the
Trustees, my once-removed bosses at the university where I worked, one of
whom is somewhat of a mentor to me, and by the manner of Jack's reference
to him he clearly holds him in very high esteem as well.  I didn't go into
detail about the reasons for my choice to depart from Chicago when I'd
accepted a head-hunter's solicitation for a job in another city and then
proceeded to look at many opportunities, the one I chose bringing me to
Providence, but I talked more to Jack, easily, than even talked about my
job search during and since with my close friends.  He was easy to talk to
. . . although his handsome face and beautiful body – and I did find
myself often distracted by the sensuous ripple and roll of his muscles as
he moved – were quite enough to hold my attention enrapt.

When Jack served up dinner – on very expensive-looking china – and
put it down in front of me and laid his place next to mine at the counter
he also, without asking, poured water from a chilled bottle for both of us.
I don't know why that seemed so intimate, him knowing exactly what I'd
choose to drink.  Not beer, not wine, not even an offer, just an assumption
– correct – of what I'd want.

As he was sitting down, I asked, "Oh, could I have another napkin?"  Jack
looked confused, as he'd put out two linen napkins with the silverware he
passed across the counter earlier.  "I, uh, used it already," I said, and I
guiltily.  He looked at me quizzically, but he turned and took another from
the drawer and came back around and handed it to me.  I felt too guilty and
finally lifted my buttcheek and gestured down.  I was sitting on the
napkin.  I'd snuck it there after I'd sat for a while and realized that
Jack's previously-injected spunkloads were likely oozing out of my sore and
loosened asshole.

"Uh, OK," Jack said, looking back up at me with a bemused smile.  A bemused
smile which made me miss a breath, actually.  SHIT!  There I go again!

"There's more, I'm afraid," I said, looking away.

"OK," he said with a chuckle.

I got up, took the napkin, which did indeed have a rather large wet spot,
away and showed him the wet spot on the leather underneath.  "I didn't
realize until it was too late, and then I was embarrassed to say it and
kept thinking what could I do about it, how would I clean cum off leather,
and then we were talking and I was so distracted by enjoying our
conversation, and—"

Jack cut me off with his hand on my lips.  "My GOD, Mads.  Do you have any
fucking idea how—"

"I know, I know, these things are probably some rare leather that can't be
replaced, and I—"

And then, as he pushed his hand against my lips again, more firmly, I
realized his look boring into my eyes was the same one I'd seen earlier
when he launched himself at me and into me.  I looked down and his big
beautiful cock, which had been intriguingly swinging about as he moved
around the kitchen, was if not fully hard, close enough, and there was
already a drop of precum at the tip.

I inhaled deeply against his hand, which had stayed at my lips when I
looked down, and then I did the only thing I could do and reached down and
took the now larger glob of precum off his cockhead with my fingers and
brought it up.  As if we'd choreographed it, my fingers came to my lips as
Jack pulled his hand away, and I rather theatrically extended my tongue as
far as I could out of my mouth and swiped it across Jack's clear cock-goo
on my fingertips.

"FUCK DINNER!" Jack exclaimed through a deep intake of breath, and then he
launched himself on me, almost knocking me out of the stool.  He clamped
his lips on mine and wrapped his arms around me, knocking my plate roughly
away with his elbow, though neither of us reacted to the clatter.  I was
clawing at him, groping his ass, pulling him closer, and grabbing his cock
as our teeth knocked together for the force of the kiss.

Somewhere in Jack's fierce growls as he kissed me he said, "I'm going to
refill you!" and my entire body reacted to the promise.  Before I knew what
happened, I'd been turned around roughly and had two fingers inside me as I
was pushed forward over the counter.  I saw Jack's other arm reach over to
his butter plate and fumble the big cube of butter he'd put there for his
roll into his hand as the roll went flying off the plate.  And then I felt
his hand behind me and in me, smearing the soft now-melting butter in me
rather urgently, without any consideration for my already battered hole.

The next thing I felt was his fingers leaving me as roughly as he'd shoved
them in me, and then HE was in me – roughly, fully, and my shout was far
more of pleasure and rightness with things than with the searing pain and
sting of him entering me.  But Jack was fucking me again, right there,
right then, because he wanted, he NEEDED my ass then and there, and GOD, I
needed him to need my ass just as much.

Jack was holding me tight by my waist as he SLAMMED into me HARD and FAST,
and he was shouting and yelling a continuous stream of expletives and
exclamations.  And then he reached over my right shoulder with his arm, his
forearm coming down across my chest and pulling me up and back hard against
him and his rutting into me became even harder and faster as I felt his
teeth on the back of my shoulder.

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"
I exclaimed as a new pain was introduced into the pain/pleasure equation of
his savage fucking of me.

"Can't.  Get.  Enough.  Of.  YOU!" he exclaimed and then bit the back of my
neck and sucked on it.

My entire body was in flames, from my toes to the ends of my rather short
hair and everything in between.  With this position, particular explosive
force was building in my nuts because Jack's monster cock was slamming my
prostate and roughly rubbing against it as it passed on in and then out
again, knocking it with the huge flange on his engorged head just before he
SLAMMED it again.  "OH GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD, JACK!" I shouted. "YOU'RE GONNA –
YOU'VE GOT ME – "OH GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD!"  And then just like that my
entire body was spasming against his thrusts as my balls exploded and the
force of it rippled through me until I completely lost myself as I felt my
cock filling with my first blast traveling up through it.

I began to see again, something other than the blasts in my brain, and felt
Jack against me from behind, his panting hard against me, like my own, his
hot gasping breathes by my left ear and his chin on my left shoulder.  His
arms were clamped around me, his right still over my shoulder at his elbow,
his forearm fully clamping me to him, and his left arm around my waist,
quivering over my abs.  "Jesus," I said quietly.

"I'm, uh, well sorry for just jumping you like that," he said, close to my
ear still and kissed me on my neck.  And then he let his hold on me loose
and pulled himself slowly out of me.

"OH HOLY FUCK!" I shouted.

"Can I kiss it and make it better?" Jack asked, still behind me, but his
tone was breathy.

I braced my hands on the counter to keep from collapsing from my knees
going weak at the thought of him still being excited, still being excited
by me, by his need for me.  "It's pretty clear you can do whatever you want
to me, Jack," I said in a husky voice, my own need choking me.

I felt him gently pull my cheeks apart.  It was like a new pain, but I held
my exclamation . . . at least until I felt his tongue on my freshly-fucked
hole, and then I let slip a long "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
mmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Godddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd!"

Jack lapped at my hole tentatively first, then, when I pushed back into him
– I couldn't help myself despite the burning I was feeling – he went
to work lapping and slurping and gently running his tongue across my
swollen ring, all of it over and over and moaning and growling all the
while.  "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," over and over, and each time it
stoked my fire inside.

My cock was raging hard again, and my balls felt like they were in a vise
they were aching so much from cumming three times in the past couple of
hours.  I reached down absently and felt my own precum and casually
thought, on a separate track in my brain, how incredible it was I had any
left.

Jack grabbed my cock out of my hand roughly and squeezed it, a muffled
"MINE!" coming from him into my ass-crack.  And then his hand was back
again, on my ass cheek, holding me open for his face to suck and lick and
lap my hole.  "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," again and then all
of a sudden I felt my body ignite for real, and just like that, after he'd
fucked three loads out of me, his tongue in my ass – more accurately his
aggressive desire for me – had me exploding again.

"I'MMMMMMMMMM FUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" I
yelled as my nuts felt like the strongest man on earth was gripping them
with all his might, a pain so incredible as it accompanied my exploding
climax that I finished with a scream of pain.

Jack's tongue left me as my
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
reverberated through his loft, and my cock started pumping blasts I thought
must be dry for all the cum I'd already emitted.

Somewhere in the background I heard Jack say, "Babe," and that came through
all I was feeling, just as I felt his hand flat on my ass, warm and
comforting and concerned.  And then I felt the first blast leave my cock,
and Jack's hand gripped my ass hard and he yelled, "OH FUCKN A that's fuckn
HOT!"

I was fully conscious this time, unlike the last one Jack fucked out of me,
which I later found out blacked me out for several minutes, apparently, as
that was the time between my climax and Jack's.  I felt every pump, both in
the excruciating pain of my overworked nuts, every blast as it surged
through my cock and, most significantly, Jack's grip on my ass.

I was gripping the counter as if my life depended on it, and Jack was still
kneeling behind me, amazed with me . . . and with himself, too.  My life,
in fact, was changing, my body was becoming – well, honestly, HAD become
– his, I just hadn't realized the extent of it yet.

Jack slowly got up and gently turned me around to face him.  I winced a bit
at the movement – I don't think my ass was that sore after my 25th
birthday gang-bang my best friend arranged for me.  Jack tentatively moved
into me, our eyes locked, and he slowly put his arms around me.  When I
moved mine to match his embrace, he pulled me tight against him.  Our
stubbly faces rubbed against each other, and he kissed the base of my neck
at my shoulder gently.  As I moved my head involuntarily to nuzzle him, I
heard him say, quite evenly, "You're incredible, Mads."

"You're the incredible one, Jack – truly," I said, not nearly as gravely
as I felt it.

"Hungry?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I need another shower," I answered, and I quickly followed with, "But I
need food more!  Think you could eat with a stinking slut you've totally
dominated for the past several hours?"

Jack's gaze turned intense.  "As long as I'm within reach of you, Mads, I'm
reasonably sure I can do anything."

Of course, my reflex took over.  "Well," I smirked, "I'll make you prove
that, AGAIN, just as soon as I get some energy replenished!" and I yanked
on his slimy, hanging cock.

Jack jumped and grinned broadly, but then his gaze went intense again, and
he said, "I'll hold you to that, stud!"

If you enjoyed yourself reading this and want to send me feedback, it's
welcome: madsvand@gmail.com.

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