Date: Thu, 9 Feb 2006 20:57:50 -0800 (PST)
From: John Black <blackhunk33@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Model, Chapter 1
"Tilt your head down just a little and to the right, Jay," the
photographer directed.
I did as he asked, trying to hold the pose and the sardonic smile
this photo lay out needed. The clothing company wanted its models to all
have "the look" (whatever that was). I guess it was supposed to be edgy,
urban, a little arrogant, but still appealing. In this suit jacket, I
looked like a pimp that was down on his luck. I didn't like the way it
draped on me. It hid my muscular body and fit like a sack. But, my thick
neck, square jaw, and broad shoulders couldn't be hidden even by this
baggy, deconstructed (or was it unconstructed) suit coat. However, it was
a big deal to get a gig with this clothier, so I smiled mysteriously and
took their money.
One thing for sure, though. I'd never get caught dead in a rag like
this in my own personal wardrobe! What a piece of shit! And for $1500?
Are they tokin' Maui Wowie? For that price, I'd get mine tailor-made while
I was here in Italy. That is, if I were a suit kinda guy. I'm not.
My idea of dressing up is slacks and a turtle neck shirt with long
sleeves, and penny loafers (no socks). And the slacks had to fit just
right over my high, tight, muscle ass and drape well across my flat, lower
abs, and caress my big dick and bull nuts. If you got it, flaunt it.
At 5'11", 200 pounds, I was a little too tall and a little too
heavy for a male model. But, for showing off well-cut pants or shirts, or
casual wear (including beach wear), I was The Man. I got $25,000 for
signing the contract and $10,000 a day while posing for the camera, plus
expenses (within reason). My agent got me some good gigs in the last three
years, so I was making good bread now.
But, a face and body like mine don't last long in this business.
So, I've been stashing most of mine away in some tax-free annuities that my
business manager suggested. Between those two sharks (business manager and
agent), they got 20% of what I got (but, not expenses. That was a straight
reimbursement handled by my business manager). My degree in accounting
kept him from screwing me over and he knew it. I didn't have the time to
deal with all the details, so I'd hired him to do all that. But, I did get
monthly statements and details of all transactions from him, anyway.
"Once more, Jay," the photographer said interrupting my reverie.
"Look down this time instead of into the distance." I adjusted my focus,
tried to keep the arrogant, but approachable sneer and listened to the
shutters click away (he had several cameras positioned about the set).
Holding a pose for several minutes can be an agony. It's similar to
working out at the gym; but instead of doing reps, you put some tension in
your muscles and hold for the count of 1,000 instead of 10.
The warm lights, sun, and strain were taking their toll. I could
feel the sweat trickle down my back and in between my hard ass cheeks.
More sweat rolled down my underarms, despite the anti-sweat pit getter I'd
sprayed on. Most of the time, the clothiers wouldn't allow such chemicals
near their precious clothing, but as this was for the suit manufacturer,
pitting out the shirt wasn't a problem. It wasn't their shirt.
Finally, the photographer took pity on me and called for a break.
The truth was, my shaved head was glowing with too much perspiration and
creating a reflection from the warm sun and hot photo lights. Summer in
Italy can be brutally warm and humid.
I unbuttoned the suit jacket and fanned myself. Then, finally, I
took it off. For a summer-weight suit, it was like a horse blanket. "Who
do they think they're kidding?" I muttered to myself.
"Rene!" bellowed the photographer, and then nodded my direction.
Rene was the make-up artist. He covered blemishes, added lip gloss,
powdered shiny spots, added eye shadow, and all that hide-and-disguise
shit. And he was very good at it. I thought he was a sleazy toad, but he
knew his trade. I respected him for that, but kept my distance. He was
always trying to cop a feel when I modeled beach wear, but I'd politely
push him away. You don't want to get on his bad side. He can make you
look like a raccoon.
The sun was getting too warm for the shoot, so the photographer
moved us under the shade of a big tree (genus unknown to me) and set up his
lights again. At least now, the sun wouldn't be adding its energy to the
hot lights. Maybe, I wouldn't sweat as much. I took off the soaked shirt
and toweled off, flexing my muscles as Rene dried my shaved head and face,
then touched up my lips and eye shadow. His fingers "accidentally" slid
over my right nipple. I flinched, but didn't back-hand him like I wanted
to. I didn't need the reputation for being difficult. I already had one
(among the other gay models) for being randy as a billy goat. Being randy
was okay, difficult was not. The latter could kill your future in the
trade.
Half an hour later, the photographer was ready for me again. I
donned a fresh shirt and the suit jacket and stepped into the scene. "This
time, I want you and Denise to look into each others eyes. Don't put love
into it or yearning, just staring. Denise, you do the hungry stare, but
Jay, I want a little bit of an arrogant sneer like the solo shoot we just
did."
My "co-star" Denise was a great model. She was slender, athletic,
beautiful, and a class act; in other words, she was a joy to work with, a
true professional. She was my senior by about five years, but the extra
years had been very good to her.
I'd been gay all of my 25 years, never even considering bedding
down with a woman. But, Denise had unexpectedly gotten a rise out of me.
I decided it had to be her athletic, hard body that did it. I'm sure my
dick would have wilted if I'd attempted any kind of sex act with her. But,
I wasn't about to ruin my reputation with a scandal. She was married and
so was I. Okay, that last part is a big, fat lie. I told everyone I was
married, the little woman being back in the States. But, I wasn't. I was
fuckin' every hot male ass I could get in front of me.
I'd used that famous line uttered by some, long-ago actor, "Pardon
me if I get aroused during this love scene. And pardon me if I don't."
After sprouting some heavy wood a year ago with her on a beach shoot, my
reputation was solid. She let it be known to all the models, agents, and
clothiers that she met that I was substantially hung and my "wife" was a
very lucky woman. Denise is a terrible gossip, and didn't mind sharing her
special "knowledge" with anyone who'd listen.
But within our close group of gay models, it was common knowledge
that I was very well hung and loved to fuck or get sucked off. In fact,
between every pose for beach wear or casual wear, I'd leave for the
changing room and get sucked off by the Fluffer. The Fluffer's job was to
keep a good size to the model's dicks while they showed off the latest in
swimwear and beachwear. Some needed more work than others. Mine was the
opposite. I hung big, even when flaccid, so any arousal would show
obscenely. And being around all those stunning men always gave me wood
(unless I'd recently drained my lizard).
The few straight men who modeled that kind of clothing did their
own fluffing. But, it was commonly known that they could get a good suck
from the Fluffer, if they wanted it.
The Fluffer that we generally used was a former model who still
looked really good. He loved to do his job without clothes, getting us
turned on with his hot mouth, beautiful ass, and hard dick. After sucking
on us, he'd dry our dick off quickly, stuff us back in our shorts and send
us back out. But, for me, he always sucked me off and swallowed every
drop. If we had the time, he'd keep it in his mouth to suck out the last
dribbles (which could be up to five minutes after a climax). If not, I'd
often drip into the shorts, showing a wet spot. The photographer would
airbrush those "mistakes" out later.
One exasperated photographer had suggested that if my dripping dick
couldn't be more discrete, I should wear some kind of diaper on it. I
found a head-only condom that fit pretty well and fixed the problem. It
didn't even show up in the photos, although I thought it made the head of
my dick look bigger. However, if my dick were starting to swell, the head
would be at least that big; so I didn't say anything more and neither did
that photographer.
Gratefully, this shoot ended. I handed my suit to the dresser from
the clothing company and headed to my dressing room, grateful to be rid of
that rag. The dresser told me that I looked marvelous in his company's
suit. I smiled politely, not daring to tell him what I really thought. If
that kind of opinion gets back to the wrong people, you're seen as
difficult, again. Models don't have opinions; models have bodies.
Right on cue, the Fluffer rose to greet me when I entered the
dressing room. "Still need some help?" he asked, after I shut the door.
"Always," I smiled back at him. I pulled my underwear down and my
dick sprang up hungrily.
"Yeah, you need some special help," he grinned.
He bent over a convenient table and wiggled his hard, muscular butt
at me. I squatted behind him and rimmed him out. His clean, delicious,
deep ass spread open for my darting tongue. I'd tried using the head-only
condom when I'd fucked him before, but it always came off deep in his ass
during the fucking. I'd checked twice when I'd first tried it as a real
condom. Both times, it had slipped off during our heavy-duty rutting. So,
now, I used the traditional Magnum condom to bag my randy dick. It was
already lying on the table next to him, the foil covering ripped open and
ready for me to put it on.
If I ever got myself a boyfriend, this guy would definitely be on
the list. For a white boy, he had the sweetest ass, nicest smile (that
could melt any heart), and tastiest ass and cum I'd ever experienced.
And I'd had a lot of men in my bed. I'd started playing around with
other guys when I was 10, graduated to fucking when I was 12 (when a kid
from the neighborhood a couple years my senior wanted to feel a big dick in
his ass), and rimming and swallowing loads by the time I was 14. One of
the local pimps suggested that I go with him and make money doing what I
loved most. But, that didn't last more than a couple of months. I liked
sex too much. I was giving it away rather than charging for it. And the
guys who were willing to pay the full price weren't men I wanted to nut
with anyway. So, my desire to be selective and to not charge for my
services ended my career as a whore.
By the age of 16, I'd been approached twice to be a model. One was
to model my body and big dick for some sleazoid I'd not spend time with,
even if he were the last person on earth. The other was legitimate, being
a representative of one of the local department stores who wanted to
attract some ghetto money. I modeled casual wear mostly. Most were in
some kind of athletic setting, so I worked out more to be more appealing,
adding to my burgeoning genetic gifts.
That was also when I found out that posing in good, casual clothes
(especially swim and beach wear) got me hard. It seemed that every shot
showed off my big dick, my monster crawling across a hip or snaking down a
leg. The photographer (at the end of his patience from having to retouch
all my photos) told me that I had a career in modeling, but I needed to get
my dick under control. He suggested beating off before each session.
Finally, I figured out how soon before the shoot I needed to do that (and
not leave a big wet spot from the remnants of my jizzy climax).
Jason (the Fluffer) was enjoying my lingual stimulation, moaning
softly whenever my long, wet tongue penetrated his back door. Although he
always bottomed for me, Jason was a true versatile man. He had a nice dick
that produced huge quantities of cum (even more than I did). He'd had a
string of boyfriends, but they never lasted for the same reason that I
never had lasting relationships. We traveled too much, were tempted too
much, and couldn't keep our dicks (or asses) in our pants: this particular
hook up being a classic example.
I loved to ride Jason's ass. He was so good at taking big dick
like mine (9" by 6") all the way in and chewing it with his ass muscles
until you shot a load. We'd talked several times about barebacking, but
with his preference for swallowing a lot of model loads in one day (and me
pounding any hot ass that bent over for me), we decided that wouldn't be a
good idea. We were still coming up negative with our frequent tests, but
neither of us was into exclusivity. So, we agreed to continue to have
"bagged" fun instead of going to bareback (which we'd both done and loved;
he'd been a top and bottom, but I'd only topped bareback.).
In this particular session, my condomed dick was pushing
effortlessly into his sweet, tight, white boy ass. We'd been fucking
several times a day since the beginning of this shoot; and been spending
our free time fucking in his bed (morning and evening at least) and
flirting with the "natives" (despite the language barrier). Last night,
we'd both scored big (finding a father/son team that took both of us on).
Yeah, la dolce vita (the sweet life).
I slowly pistoned his hot ass in long, deep strokes, just the way
we both liked it. He slowly ate my dick with his ass muscles and I ground
in every inch I had into his yielding tunnel. We changed positions (him
lying on his back on the table instead of bent over it). I plugged back in
and kissed him, chuffing like old, steam locomotives as I pounded his hole.
His hands moved quickly to my ass and pulled me harder into him, asking
clearly for a faster pace. Considering how much that daddy fucked him last
night, his ass was probably sore. By the end of the night, I was in
daddy's ass, daddy was in Jason's ass and Jason was pumping the boy. (That
was how we ended, not what we'd done for the rest of the evening.) I
didn't ask how old that kid was, but I doubted very much that he was a day
over 16. But, in Europe, age 16 is legal in most countries. I'd not
bothered to ask about Italy.
Working his erect nipples with my fingers, I wound him up to a
fever pitch. One of his hands left my ass and jacked his leaking dick. I
swatted his hand away, going for what he loved best: a good, hard fuck that
pounded the cum right outta his big nuts without having to touch his dick.
As much as he shot off, he'd paste both of us with his cream. I didn't
mind at all. I'd lick it up as my dick slowly shrank in his ass.
But, not yet. I was still pumping him in long, deep thrusts,
letting my dick jerk hard with each deep penetration. He groaned loudly
with each hammering, begging me to fuck him harder and faster. Anyone
listening within ten feet of my dressing room would have heard us. The
only people who might be nearby would have to be one of our fellow models.
The few women on this shoot were on the other side of the makeshift studio
they'd set up for the indoor shots.
But, we didn't care. We were fucking like men should: bold, hard,
and passionately. The only way it could have been better would be to
bareback.
"Cum in my ass, Jay! You're the only one who knows how to fuck
white boy ass like mine!" Jason bellowed.
He was hardly a boy, being a good ten years older than me, but the
sentiment was heartfelt. He loved dark dick, especially, the big ones.
And I certainly qualified. My heritage is a mixture of black, Native
American, and po' white trash. Traces of Negroid features included my full
lips, Aquiline nose (but broad nostrils), and a very dark, big dick. I
know about the myth that black men have bigger dicks. In my experience, it
wasn't true (although I've been more impressed with their dicks than white
boys). However, myths of that nature will probably never die.
In the meantime, my nuts were pulling up tightly into the base of
my pounding dick, signaling a willingness to unload. I'd been able to cum
on cue for most of my life. In this case, Jason was going to cum first.
He was very close already. The upward curve of my dick was hitting his
prostate relentlessly. If he'd been jacking his dick instead of letting it
flop on his abs (because I wouldn't let him jack), he'd have climaxed
several minutes ago.
His dick jerked hard and bubbled out a weak spray of cum. I knew
from experience that was a prelude to a gusher. Knowing that, I
powerfucked him hard, racing to the peak of my pleasure mountain and
crashing into it with a potent series of creamy sprays into the protective
sheath. I was matching him squirt for squirt for several seconds.
"Fuck my ASS!" he pled. "Fuck it!" he moaned repeatedly.
"Yeah, Baby! Take a big load in that pretty ass!" I urged him.
His geysering dick sprayed hard at least 6 times, coating both of
us in warm jizz. I didn't mind at all. When we were finished, we'd take a
little time and lick each other off. His uncapped gusher wouldn't be
wasted.
With a final shudder, I pulled slowly from his gripping ass. "You
gonna pull out already?" he groaned.
"There's a lot more where that came from," I grinned down at him,
kissing him again. "You know that better than most."
"Yeah," he sighed contentedly. "I just wish I were 10 years
younger or you were 10 years older, so we could do this all the time,
instead of these happenstance meetings that we've had over the last five
years."
"We'd be competing, never in the same shoots," I corrected him.
"Besides, you know what a model's life is like. There's no way to maintain
a relationship that isn't superficial. We'd be apart too much to keep it
going."
"And we're both oversexed and couldn't keep our dicks in our pants.
Yeah, I know," he sighed. "I've heard and said all the arguments before.
Still, it doesn't change what I'd like."
"So, whatcha wanna do tonight for entertainment?" I asked, tossing
him a towel as well as cleaning up my own body.
"How about that hot blonde number that was modeling with you this
morning?" Jason replied. "I know he's gay."
"How do you know?" I wondered. He smiled knowingly. "Never mind!"
I laughed. The Fluffer knew everyone's secrets. "Any idea which way he
swings, top or bottom?"
"His ass is too cute to be a top."
"What about his dick?"
"Average, but really sweet cum, and quite a load, too!" Jason
revealed.
"Aren't you the fountain of knowledge?"
"Stick with me, Kid," he grinned back at me. "I'll teach you
things you never knew existed."
"I'll bet you could, too," I allowed. "Did you just fluff him or
get a load? Oh, wait, you already answered that. So, he's either gay or
bi. In either case, I'll bet I could bed him. But, what are you gonna do
for a date?"
"I'm gonna call Daddy from last night," Jason said. "He's an
incredible fuck and I could use a rematch."
"I know he's a good bottom and seemed to know what to do when he
fucked you and the boy," I agreed. "Do you know where this blonde Adonis
is staying?"
"I'll have to check, but I think he's near our hotel."
"I'm sure you have your sources. Do you know if he's still hanging
around the set?"
"I saw him watching you and Denise earlier, so he was here then."
"So, he's probably still waiting for the car that takes the rest of
us back?"
"More than likely," he said. "I don't think he walked back to town.
You da star, Man!" Jason laughed. "That boy's gonna hang around just to
watch you."
"You think he knows?"
"He didn't hear it from me," Jason insisted. "You gonna try that
old routine of letting him seduce the straight, married guy?"
"Hasn't failed me, yet!" I smirked. I'd scored many times with
young, gay models, letting them think I was as advertised: straight, away
from the wife, horny, and approachable. I'd already laid the groundwork
with a smile, a wink, and a companionable squeeze of his shoulders as I
told him about how this photographer worked. I'd also mentioned that this
photo shoot had a Fluffer. Obviously, he'd availed himself of that fringe
benefit. I'd find out later how grateful his gymnast body would be.
As is standard for all gigs like this, I brought a small bag with
me. In it were a change of clothes, some toiletries, lube (of course), and
other essentials. So, in the ride back to town in the limousine, I sat
next to him and found out more about him. I asked him if he had plans for
the evening and he said that he didn't. When I suggested we have dinner
together to discuss additional tips of the trade, he jumped at it. Gotcha,
I chortled to myself. He was even bold enough to suggest that I could
shower and change at his hotel and we'd dine at a restaurant he'd tried
last night and found to be terrific. Of course, I considered that for a
moment before I responded with a reluctant yes. This is so easy!
His hotel was older, but in good repair. His room wasn't large,
but was bigger than many I'd been in at the beginning of my career. The
bathroom was well lighted, but the exhaust fan (as usual) was lame (Shane,
the blonde surfer model I was gonna fuck, informed me). An infant could
suck better than that fan, he'd added! I smiled knowingly and left the
door open. As I stripped out of my sweaty clothes and stepped in to the
shower, I checked my reflection in the mirror. Shane could easily see me
from either of the beds. How very convenient!
I rinsed and began to soap up. I glanced in the mirror
occasionally to watch him. He was staring boldly. Might was well give him
a show, I smirked. My dick was already hanging heavy. I worked my fingers
over my pecs, causing my nipples to plump and stick out. My swelling dick
demonstrated the clear connection between my nips and my hardening manhood.
Checking the mirror again, I saw him rubbing his shaft within his
pants. I grabbed a handful of dick and bull nuts and waggled them in his
direction. "Hey, Shane," I bellowed. "Could you get me the shampoo from
my bag?" Might as well help things along, I decided. He jumped up from
the bed, rummaged through my bag and pulled out a plastic bottle of special
shampoo I'd scored from my barber at home. He said it was specially made
for my kind of hair. Whether that was true or not made no difference to
me. It felt good on my scalp when I used it and gave my hair a healthy
sheen.
"This what you needed?" he asked, staring blatantly at my rising
dick. He licked his lips and groped himself casually.
"Yeah, thanks," I smiled back at him, taking the shampoo. "You
gonna shower, too?"
"Uh, yeah," he finally said looking up to my face instead of at my
nearly hard dick.
"Better get your ass in here then," I suggested. "The water is
already cooling. It'll never be warm enough for you by the time I finish."
He couldn't tear his clothes off fast enough. He jumped in the
shower and rinsed off in front of me. Shane acted like being in a shower
with another boned up man was no big deal. In fact, my dick hardened to
full sail when I checked out his naked ass and throbbing dick. Shane stood
about 5'8", had maybe 170 pounds on his hot, blonde, muscled, slender,
surfer-dude body. His dick was probably 7" long, nicely thick, and pointed
nearly straight up. Mine was sticking straight out at his ass.
Shane turned his wet head and checked out my body, especially my
dick. He smiled, and said, "You have an incredible body, Jay. Too bad
they didn't see it in this shoot."
"Thanks," I smiled, but checked out his muscled, broad back down to
his bubble butt ass. "You look good, too. They'll never see this in those
horrible suits we were wearing," I smiled slowly as I patted his ass.
"You really think I have a hot ass?" he cooed turning around. His
hard dick throbbed and jerked as it pointed upward between us. Dick dew
drooled from the big head.
"And a very hard dick too," I laughed. "I have that impact on some
guys."
"You sure do on me," he sighed. "You don't mind that I'm gay?"
"Damn, Man! How could I mind in this line of work? Most of the
men are," I pointed out. "I'd never work as a model if gay men bothered me
at all."
"I'll bet you've had a few of them come on to you, too."
"Yeah, it's happened."
"Your big dick is huge," he observed, making a pretense of
lathering up. "It seems to like me."
"My dick likes to be out of clothes. I'm constantly horned up. I
haven't been home in five months now."
"You use the Fluffer?"
I hesitated to answer that question, but decided I'd go ahead.
"Yeah, but not for the reasons you think."
"What?"
"Uh, you see, I have the opposite problem," I began. "My dick
doesn't want to go down most of the time, so it's too big for anything that
might be kinda tight on me. So, I get the Fluffer to get me off and my
dick goes down to a more reasonable size. I hope that doesn't offend you."
"Gawd, NO!" he smiled, his knees starting to shake with sexual
energy. "So, you've been sucked off by him?"
"Uh, yeah. But, you understand that a stiff dick has no sexual
preference, right?" I defended, staying well within my straight, married
persona.
He nodded blankly, his mind and eyes on my hard dick. The water
continued to pound on his back. But, my dick started to drip precum just
like his was. Unconsciously, he reached out and squeezed my dick, stroking
a big drop of precum on to his fingers. I moaned with pleasure.
Shane looked up and smiled. "You liked that, didn't you?"
"What's not to like?" I breathed.
Emboldened, he stroked the full length. My hands went to his
shoulders to steady myself. He took that to mean he should get on his
knees. That works too, I decided.
His lips closed over the big dickhead and my hands went to the back
of his head. He pushed forward, taking several inches of thick shaft into
his mouth. My dickhead hit the back of his throat and he swallowed. This
guy had experience! Shane's hands cupped my big muscled butt cheeks and
swallowed my manhood whole, his lips munching on my trimmed pubes.
"Damn!" I moaned. "The Fluffer's not even this good," I lied.
Shane renewed his delightful assault on my hard dick. I reached over his
back and shut off the shower. "Water's getting cold, but you sure aren't.
Damn, Boy!" I squeaked, pulling him off my dick. I didn't want to cum yet;
and he had me dangerously close to spraying his throat with a hot load.
He looked up at me, disappointed. "Didn't you like it?"
"I liked it too much," I assured him. "I didn't want to cum, yet."
I smiled down at him. "How about we dry off and take this to the bed?"
Shane quickly exited the shower and snared towels, tossing one to
me. "You ever done more than let a guy swing on your dick?" he asked.
I lied again. "No, just the Fluffers, and now you."
"Have you ever thought about doing more?" he pressed.
"Such as?"
"Let a guy eat that beautiful ass of yours, for instance?"
"Why would you want to do that?" I wondered innocently.
"Because it feels so good," Shane exulted, "to the guy getting
rimmed as well as the guy doing it."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah," he nodded enthusiastically. "Your wife never played
with your ass when you did a 69 with her?"
"Well, she rubbed her hands over my butt when we 69'ed, but she
never stuck her tongue in my butt," I lied some more.
"You ate her out though, right?" I nodded like I knew what he was
talking about. "This is the same kinda thing, only better." I looked
dubious for his sake.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I've done both men and women and loved it, at least as much
as the woman or man I was rimming," he confessed. I gave him another
doubtful look. "You know how much women loved to be eaten out, how crazy
they get?" Again, I nodded. "Well, you enjoyed doing it to her, too,
right?" Another nod. "Well, you're gonna love this then," He assured me.
By now, we'd completely dried off and were headed for the bed. He
convinced me (willingly) to get on the bed on all fours. Shane got behind
me and put both hands on my hard butt cheeks. I flinched a little, just to
remind him how straight I was. I nearly laughed out loud.
He didn't bother with preliminaries, but dove in, his tongue
spearing my tight sphincter and liberally wetting it down. His attempts to
pry my back door open made me moan, despite myself. "See, I told ya you'd
love it!" he crowed. I pushed my ass back into his face, giving him more
reason to think he'd converted me. Of course, I also loved what he was
doing. "This is so great," he whispered when he took a breath. "You have
the best ass I've ever eaten! You've gotta try it!"
"I can't eat my own ass," I smirked.
"Eat mine, I meant," he laughed. "I really get into it."
"You sure? You won't be freaked if I don't like it?"
"You'll love it, if you love eatin' pussy. This is MUCH better,"
he assured me.
We switched places and I tentatively worked at spreading his
beautiful, blonde bubble butt with my dark hands. I wanted to dive into
his ass so badly, but I knew I had to play the reluctant married guy or I'd
not get what I really wanted: his surfer ass eating my hard dick. But, I
played the part and slowly approached his butt with my tongue. "I'm just
supposed to stick my tongue in your hole?" I queried.
"Kiss it, lick it, stick your tongue in it, slurp on it, whatever
you like, Jay," he moaned. "Just do it!"
I kissed it gently, and then pulled back. "Not bad," I said. "It
doesn't taste nasty like I thought it would."
"A hot, clean ass is better than any pussy I've ever eaten out," he
confirmed. I was going to take his word for it, having had no experience
(nor wanting any) in that sexual area. "Work it for me, Please!" he
begged. I went back to work, getting bolder with my lips, and then my
tongue. He loved it. His ass wiggled in my face, he moaned with pleasure,
and finally pushed his ass back into my licking tongue with his hands on
the back of my head. "Yeah, Baby! Eat my ass out!"
It was a great ass for eating. This guy had all the good moves I
loved from a talented bottom. I paused. "I had no idea it would be like
this. Obviously, I like it. My dick is as hard as it's ever been! Look
at it!" I marveled.
"Damn! That beauty has to go up my ass. You gotta fuck me, Man!"
he groaned, pulling gently on the thick shaft and squeezing the spongy,
swollen dickhead. His fingers were quickly coated in dick dew. He licked
his fingers. "Look at that big dick, Man. It wants me. All that precum
wants to lube my ass tunnel!"
"But, I don't have any condoms," I lied again.
"I'm the first man you ever fucked, and you're married and have
been faithful to your wife," he concluded (based on no valid information).
"I love to be barebacked, and you got the perfect dick to screw my ass and
load me up with gallons of your baby-makin' sauce. You can't knock me up,
so there's no problem."
"How do you know I'm not lying to you?" I ventured.
"I don't think you'd lie to me just to get into my ass," he
averred. "You could have it anytime you wanted it. You da MAN!"
Duplicitous slut that I am, I felt slightly guilty, but my hard
dick over-rode any reasons not to take this guy and fuck him REAL good.
Besides, I was negative. And I loved to bareback! But, eventually he was
going to find out. Did I want my carefully honed reputation ruined for a
good, quick fuck? Hopefully, it wouldn't be quick; nor would it be only
one fuck. I wanted to pound his ass several times during the night.
"Look, Shane," I finally said. "You gotta use protection. You
don't know me. You don't know my sexual history. I really wanna fuck you;
and I have since I first saw you three days ago. But, for both of our
sakes, I need to wear a condom."
"Are you positive?"
"I'm not positive, but I'm sure we need to do this."
"But, I really want your load in my ass, several of them if I can
get them," he protested.
"There will be other times for that, after we get to know each
other better," I suggested.
"But, you're safe!"
I hesitated. I gotta tell this kid, I finally decided. It'll come
out eventually, and that's never good. "Look, Shane, I'm not married," I
confessed. "I'm not even straight!"
Shane paused a moment, then smiled. "Thanks for being so honest
with me, Jay, but I already knew."
"WHAT?"
Conclusion to follow.
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