Date: Sat, 1 Jan 2011 21:39:16 -0800
From: Oregon Bear <oregonbear9@gmail.com>
Subject: Waiting for Tom

This story contains graphic descriptions of adult male to male consensual
gay sex.  If this material is offensive to you or it is illegal for you to
read this, please leave this site.

				Waiting for Tom

	I'd wondered when Tom was going to get home.  He'd called earlier
and said he had to work late.  This morning, he got up an hour earlier than
usual, and rushed off without his second cup of coffee or even the big
breakfast he always cooked for himself.  He was the chef in the family, but
this week, he'd just grab a bagel and a banana and head for the door.
	He'd had a lot on his mind lately, and I could tell he was worried,
the way he tossed and turned last night, groaning in his sleep.  Still,
tomorrow was the start of a three day weekend, and we'd had plans to take
off and spend the weekend at the cabin.  We both needed to just get away.
	I put in a pretty long day myself, one of those Fridays when you
felt you worked two days in one, just to get your desk cleared off for the
long weekend.  The extra pressure to catch up had made everyone's temper
short, and I was glad to finally get out of there an hour late.
	My shoulders were tied up in a knot and my back ached when I
finally got through the door and stripped out of my clothes.  I jumped in
the shower and the fifteen minutes of hot water streaming down my back
finally unwound the tension and I started to feel human.  I started the
laundry and put the frozen lasagna I'd made last Sunday into the oven.  A
salad and a bottle of wine and we would be set for dinner, that is, as soon
as Tom got home.
	My sweatpants and T shirt felt pretty darn comfortable as I laid
out on the couch, with a glass of wine and the mellow music I'd put on.  I
lit a fire, too, and even a few candles, and the place came alive with a
sense of home, and a feeling of some peace and quiet.  It was time to
forget about all the noise and turmoil of work.
	I'd wanted to set the mood for Tom, too, knowing that he'd be hot
and stressed after his extra long day.  He hadn't had a real weekend off
for a month.  There was always overtime and he'd been bringing work home
every night this week.  I'd find a good movie or get out my guitar most
evenings, but Tom would be banging away on his laptop, muttering that he
had so much to do.
	And, I'd been missing Tom's strong, meaty hands, massaging my neck
and back, or caressing my nipples, or running his calloused fingers up my
thighs, finding my ballsac, and slowly sliding up and down my hardening
cock.  There was a lot that Tom could do with his hands, and I'd been
hungry for that action for the last several weeks.
	My work hadn't helped in that department, too, and I'd often be the
first guy to roll over and start snoring, wiped out from my own pile of
work at the office.  We weren't quite the great lovers of the year lately,
what with each of us falling asleep on the couch, and heading to bed an
hour early most evenings, falling sound asleep as soon as we laid down on
the big king sized bed that was our normal playground for our lovemaking.
	We'd even been too tired for a nice dip in the hot tub on the deck,
usually the place where we'd start being extra nice to each other, what
with stray hands sliding over nipples and upper thighs, and the extra sweet
spot just behind our balls.  We didn't stay too long in the hot tub, when
all that action got going.  Pretty soon, we'd be rolling around on the
deck, matching hard cocks with eager, wet mouths, or rushing back to the
bedroom, where we had some of our favorite toys stashed, along with a good
supply of lube.
      I knew Tom was missing out on the special things I could do for him,
like peeling back the taut foreskin on his heavy cockhead, sliding my
tongue underneath the slick thin skin, and exploring every nook and cranny
of his thick cockhead, slick with precum and my saliva, my lips sliding
down his thick stalk until my moustache was tangled with the thick tangle
of fur above his cock.  Or when he moaned so softly when my whiskered jaws
and chin would brush against the hairs of his ballsac, my tongue sucking
one of his big juicy balls into my wet mouth.
	That wouldn't be going on too long, as we'd both get too excited,
too filled with lust, and one of us would slide down and gently tongue the
balls of our partner, and move down further, the tip of the tongue
exploring their hole, wetting it for the slow slide of their hard, wet
cock, until their balls would brush against butt cheeks, and we'd dance
slow and then fast, back and forth, until we'd both erupt in ecstasy, long
ropes of white jism spurting and spurting, adding more lubricant to the
sweat and the saliva, and the manly stench of lust.  The yeasty cum would
mix with our sweat and the heat of our armpits and our groins, and drops of
sweat would soak our beards, filling the air with our moans and our spent
desire.
      I must have dozed off, because I was having this incredible dream,
thinking how nice it was to have a talented mouth and tongue holding my
hard and eager cock, a warm hand slowly touching my ballsac, rubbing the
thin, hairy skin around each of my balls, making me feel horny, hungry for
more.  Another hand was sliding my T shirt up over my chest, baring my damp
pits, and exposing my shoulders and back to the warmth in the air.  I could
catch a whiff of my own musky self, and the hot, almost sweet, smell of
Tom's sweat, the sweat that comes from a day by the lake, a mixture of lake
water, and heat, and a bottle or two of cold beer, with a bit of the foam
caught in his moustache, and a few drops falling into the thicket of fur
across his hard, sweaty chest.
      Still, it was a really good dream, this mouth and fingers that were
making me hard, making me moan a bit.  In my mind, I could feel the sun on
my chest, the warmth of the summer day rising up off the boat dock up at
the lake, warming the skin of my shirtless back, a bit of breeze cooling
the hairs around my nipples, making my tits harden, waiting for my lover's
mouth to suckle them, softly, the hairs of his beard hardening each nipple
every time he breathed against my bare skin.
	The late afternoon warmth and the lingering light of the setting
sun soaked into me, easing the tensions of whatever I'd brought home from
the office.  We were at the lake now, and the only thing that mattered was
that we were alone, and he was making love to me, slowly, deliberately.
Tom was always that kind of lover, the guy that would take his time with
you, making sure that every touch was slow, maddeningly slow, as he lit the
fuse behind my balls, making sure I'd cum hard, almost not wanting to end
his lovemaking.
      Tom always knew what needed to be done to me, to fire my lust, to
drive me nearly insane with every touch, every nip of his lips and his
teeth, every pistoning of his thick, wet cock deep inside of me, his furry
belly hard and slick against my own straining cock.  We knew this dance
well, and never tired of its music, its rhythm of skin and fur and wet, and
deep gasps from sweaty mouths and chests.  It had always been that way,
ever since we'd met, ever since that very first time, when he'd cum deep
and hard inside of me, my cock erupting in midair, Tom crying out my name,
and filling the room with his cry of ecstasy and completion.
	I climbed higher, feeling the blood hot and tight in my cock; hard
now, hard to the point of bursting, my balls tight under my cock, hot,
sweaty, almost painful.  Sweat poured out of my pits, exposed now to the
air, and I could feel a slight breeze through the black forest of my pits,
their lustful stench filling my nostrils with my musky, pungent smell,
mixed with my lust, that smell of my horniness that only came when I was
with Tom.
	Hot air raced in and out of my lungs, almost aching with the need
for oxygen, as I climbed higher and higher, my heart pounding with need,
with desire.  Higher, higher I climbed, my cock ready to shoot, my balls
ready to unleash their load of thick, steamy strings of my seed, my
manhood, erupting deep from the very core of my being.  My groans deepened,
more sweat soaking my chest, my pits, the thick hair against my cock, my
hole twitching, almost spasming, as I reached higher and higher, wanting
release, wanting more.
	White lightning crashed through the sky, my body rising off the
wooden dock, the thick summer night air holding me, touching me as my balls
emptied their seed, spurting again and again through my cock, spurting wet
and slime and yeasty cum smell across my heaving belly, even bits of cum
hurdled high across my chest, soaking one of my nipples with its heat.
	I gasped, falling back down to the warmth of the wood on the dock,
my lungs gasping for yet more air, my heart slowly easing back into its
normal, quiet rhythm, the sweat on my chest now cooling.  The stars
flashing behind my eyelids slowly faded, and my cock ached, now, aching in
a good way, an empty, satiated way, drained.
	I opened my eyes.  I saw Tom there, between my thighs, a big grin
on his face, a long string of cum oozing down his whiskers.
	"Hey, let's get this weekend started."