Date: Fri, 27 Feb 2009 20:42:11 -0800
From: Oregon Bear <oregonbear9@gmail.com>
Subject: Coming Home After Work

This story contains descriptions of graphic sex between adult gay males.
If this topic offends you or it is illegal for you to read this, please
leave this site.

			  Coming Home After Work

	It has been a retched day at work. One meeting after another, and
more power point presentations and charts than the human brain can absorb.
My boss had piled another two weeks of work on me, wanting it all done by
Tuesday.  Finally, the last meeting ended and I raced to the parking lot,
eager to get home.
	Roger had promised my favorite dinner tonight, after hearing me
moan over breakfast about my schedule for the day.  I knew he'd take care
of me tonight.  It was his day off and he'd always made the evening a
special time for us.
	I flung open the door, my tie already half off, my suit coat over
my arm.  I'd left my briefcase at work, knowing I was too tired to do any
work tonight.  Besides, I wanted some time with my partner.
	Roger greeted me at the door with a cold pint of beer, thrusting it
in my hand before I could even say hello.
	"Here ya go, partner," he chirped, grinning from ear to ear.  "Time
to kick back now."
	I took the beer, raising it to my dry lips, and felt the cold,
hoppy ale slice through the dust of the day, and slip down my throat, cold
and tasty.  It was better than what I had imagined, as I waited in the stop
and go mob scene on the freeway.
	Some of the cold foam stuck to my moustache, and Roger obliged me
by giving me a quick kiss, a bit of the foam now catching on his 'stach and
goatee.  The beer and the kiss were headed in the right direction, and I
was quickly losing my thoughts about the work day.  I could smell the rich,
heavenly smell of a pot roast wafting in from the kitchen, mixed with what
must be the smell of hot bread fresh out of the oven.  Yes, and there was a
hint of apple and cinnamon in the air.  He must have baked my favorite pie.
	Another sip of beer and I was finally at home, ready to really
relax and get out of my suit.
	"You got time for a shower," he said, taking my suit coat out of my
arms, and deftly stripping off my tie.  One meaty hand moved up to my white
shirt, and with two fingers, Roger quickly opened up my shirt, from the
neck to my belt, then ran his meaty palm through the thick curls of my
belly and chest.  His hand was hot and firm against my chest, and the sweat
that had built up between my pecs now felt a bit cool.
	As I turned to head to the bathroom, another hand reached out,
grabbing my butt cheeks through my pants.
	"Glad you're home.  Now, get into that hot water."
	I took the beer with me, and padded down the hall, kicking off my
shoes into the bedroom on my way.  A few more sips of the beer splashed
down my throat, and this time, I took the trouble to really taste the ale
as it slid across my tongue.
	In a minute, I stripped off my clothes, and soon found the right
temperature for the tense muscles in my neck and shoulder.  There was only
the hot water raining on my skull and down my back, the rest of the day
quickly fading back.  My cock came alive again, finally free from the
confines of m shorts and my dress pants, free to swing in time with my
balls, now loose in their sack, as the hot water began to soak into every
part of me.  A bit of my brain was thinking of the last time I entered
Roger, on Sunday, right after we had worked out at the gym.  We'd played a
mean game of racquetball and came back to the house all sweaty, tired, but
feeling alive.  He'd done a strip tease in the living room, taunting me to
take him right there.  We ended up wrestling and rolling around the floor,
until we ended the match, each other's hard cocks thrust deep into our
mouths, until we had finally both cum, ending our game panting and
sweating, cum dripping from our mouths into the fur of our sweaty chests.
	I must not have heard the shower curtain move, and I jumped when I
felt a big hand on my shoulder, the bar of soap running across the still
tense muscles of my back and neck.  Another big hand moved around to my
chest, smoothing the curls of my dense fur, until a finger found a nipple,
gently circling it, stroking it, until it was hard, tight against the
calluses of his hands.
	I gasped, hot water running down my moustache and into my mouth,
down the stubble of my chin.  Big hands moved to my other nipple, and soon,
it too, was hot, aching for even more, as it sent a jolt of lust down to my
balls, my cock.  Another hand moved down my back, finding my butt, feeling
between my cheeks, and began to probe into my hole.  A finger brushed the
back of my balls, tugging gently on the hair, opening me up for the hand to
go deeper, closer, until all the fingers and the palm of the thick hand was
in my ass, then around my balls, then moving around, closing tight against
my suddenly hard cock.  Heat against heat, hard against the rough skin of
my lover.
	Soap and hand slid all over, hot water and soap and hand dancing,
caressing hair and muscles and crevices.  I stood still, helpless, not
wanting this to stop, not able to guess where the hands would go next, when
he would move his fist up my cock, then down, so slow.  My balls rose, the
spot underneath my ball sack, the spot that ached so good when I would
begin to cum, now was hot, swollen, ready.
	Nothing else mattered.  My eyes closed, my feet moving farther
apart, opening my hole, my balls to his hands, his journey into the depths
of me.  Nothing else but his hands, and my hunger, just him, me, cock,
balls, lover.  Now.  Everything was focused now on my cock, his hands, my
need.  I realized that there were two hands there, no, here.  Here.  On my
cock.  Of my cock. Becoming my cock. Now, moving.  Up, then down, then up
again. Each time, taking me up.  Higher.  More ready.  More wanting to
wait, to feel this. Now.  Keep going.  Keep this here. Now.
	And, higher.  Two hands, sliding, sliding.  Then, new.  New wet,
new tight, slick, dancing, dancing.
	My eyes opened, steam, water.  I look down.  Down to my cock, so
warm, so hot, so slippery and tight with hands and face.  My lover.  My
man.  So good.  It's so good.  Don't stop now. Face. Beard. Fur. Slippery,
tight, swirling around my cock, its head.  On fire.  Wet, slimy, warm,
sliding. Up and down.  Again.  Not knowing when. But, again.  Better.
Hotter.  Don't stop. Don't end.  Keep going.  Too much. Can't take this.
Want more.  Yes.  Yes.
	Nothing else mattered.  Nothing else.  It was everything now.
Every thing.  Bigger, better, bigger, up and down.  Up and down and then,
burst. Explosion.  One, then again. And again.  Hot fire, throbs. Thrusts.
Sucks.  Grunt, moan, his name, his name.
	I feel my chest, heaving, gasping.  Armpits spewing sweat.  Hair
wet, tangled. Dripping.  Cum, yes, cum.  Everywhere.  Balls empty, now
cock, empty, spent, dripping.  Hands. Balls.  Finger. Hole.  Hot hand
against hair, against sagging, softening cock. Cock spent, done.  Released.
	"Dinner's ready now."

Copyright 2009.  Oregon Bear