From: Fred <flt2@columbia.edu>
Subject: Hot Jocks (Was: Net Connect) MM, cons, jocks, w/s
Date: Sun, 7 Apr 1996 18:17:26 -0400
Organization: Columbia University

Warning and disclaimer: 
This story contains explicit fictional depictions of sexual acts between 
consenting males. If you are under 18, if this material is illegal in 
your jurisdiction or community, or if you are offended by descriptions of 
male/male sex, do not continue.

Comments welcome, flames ignored. Redistribution only without changes and 
with these warnings intact.

Enjoy.


Net Connect (Hot Jock) Part 1

We met on the Net, and one of our last exchanges inculded this:

> >You like smelling a man's crotch? Smelling all that sweat and musk and
> >the rich maleness he's built up all day? Do you like sniffing a man's
> >balls through his sweaty underwear or a real funky jockstrap?
>         Yeah! Just thinking about it makes me hard.

Okay. It was time to get off the Net and into real time. I sent him my
number, he called it, and we arranged a time. Pete understood the setup.
When he arrived at my place, we'd have twenty minutes to see if we liked
what we saw in person. If not, either of us could say, sorry, no go, and
he would leave. If we were both happy, and he stayed, the first hour was
mine. He would do what I wanted (within limits, always the right to say
no, stop, and leave.) After that, anything and everything was up for
negotiation.

That's pretty much the way our email sex had been. I took the lead, I
started a thread, but I'd learned the kid could give as good as he took.
"Kid" I say. Hah. That was no kid. Pete was 27, I was 40. (Or that's what
we'd said on the Net. I wasn't lying, and I didn't think he was either.)

Pete was spectacularly prompt. My doorbell rang exactly at 8:45. I let
him in, and was delighted to see that his age and description matched
what he'd said on the net. You never know these days. But Pete clearly
believed in truth in advertising. 5'10", slim but not skinny, olive
skin and medium-long straight black hair. Nice bod in his light casual
summmer clothes. Nice smile, too, all the way down into those sexy
dark eyes. "Hi! You're Fritz, I hope?"

   "Yup. And you must be Pete." I took his hand. More points. Good firm
man's handshake, but just that, not trying to prove anything. "I'm
Fritz, so this must be the place you were looking for."

   I ushered him in, offered a beer, soda or whatever. He accepted the
beer, and I got two cold ones. We made small talk, sizing each other up,
but I already knew from his eyes that he also could see that I'd been
email-honest, and liked what he saw. I'm in damn good shape for 40, if
I do say so myself. An inch or so shorter than my young guest and new
friend but beefier without being the least bit fat. A solid 43" chest
and 33" waist and the rest matches. At one point, I caught a glance of
both of us in the hall mirror. His lean dark boyish handsomeness and
my ruddy, strawberry-blonde rugged good looks were a perfect contrast.

   I saw Pete glance at his watch, checked mine. It was well over the
allotted time. "Okay, that's the trial period. You want to stay?"

   His eyes met mine. "Yes."

   "Is the deal still okay?"

   His eyes held mine. "Yes."

   I didn't let them go. "Strip. Right now, all the way. I want you
buck naked in two minutes or less."

   He didn't hesitate. In way under two minutes he was standing in my
living room starkers, and his body out of clothes was everything I'd
imagined in a month of hot net-sex. Lean, coltish-hard. Smooth except
for sexy thick tufts under his arms, a dense pubic bush, wispy circles
around his surprisingly big thick nipples, and a thin treasure-trail
down his flat tummy. A nice long uncut cock hanging over a ripe pair
of goose-egg balls. Gorgeous.

  "Come here and take my clothes off." Again, he moved immediately to the
task. He unbuttoned my shirt, pulled it out of my waistband, and peeled
it off. He didn't speak, but growled in the back of his throat at the
sight of my hairy, hard man's chest, golden curls all over it. He raised
his hands to cup my tits, running his fingers in my hair, and his puppy-
dog eyes locked with mine. I knew what he wanted. "Go for it."

He bent to bury his face in my chest, rubbing against the fur, poking
his tongue out to tease my nipples to erection, until I nudged him away.
"Finish what you started first." One glance down was all it took to
tell me he was into it. That long pole was rising to half mast, standing
out away from his big fat balls.

He knelt before me to tug my shooes off, then lifted each foot in turn
to pull my socks off. Without rising, he reached up, prying my belt
buckle open and popping the top button on my 501s. He opened my fly
slowly, one button at at time, and another low growl escaped his young
lips when he saw the bulging jockstrap the opening vee revealed. It
took him a minute to work the jeans down my muscular legs, but then they
too were gone, and all that remained was my jock.

Pete reached for that, but I stopped him. "Not yet. Stand up."  When
he did, he was more than half hard. Needless to say, my jockstrap was
bulging. I led him to the bedroom, then to the john off it. With a
gesture, I headed him to the toilet. "Take a piss."

Now he spoke. "I'm not sure I can. I mean, I kind of have to, but
I might be too hard." He was almost but not quite erect, his long
cock a bow arcing out from the bush at his groin, the foreskin
stretched translucent over his swollen glans but not retrected.

"We'll wait. Piss." Pete reached down but I stopped him. "No. Don't
touch yourself. Don't peel back. Just stand there and piss." This
drill was basically to see if he would really do whatever I told him
to, but i sure never ninder watching a hot man take a leak.

I watched, waiting, seeing his butt-cheeks clench, seeing the intense
concentration on his face. His cock twitched, then dropped a little.
"Ahhh!" He cut loose, a hard golden stream out of his untouched hooded
hose. Once he cut loose, he pissed like the young satllion he resembled,
a long heavy flow to completely empty his bladder. Finally the flood
ended, and he again automatically reached toward his cock to shake off.
"Don't touch it!" My voice stopped his hand in mid motion.

I moved in, right next to him. "Take my cock out of the side of the
jock, don't pull it down." He complied, his young hand hot, almost
trembling on my more than half-hard tube. "Aim it. Right. Agghh." I have
never had any problem pissing, even through a full boner, and I gushed
a flood to match his while he held my dick. I finished, and he didn't
move. "Don't shake it, just put it back in the jock." Pete did as he
was told, and I sighed as I let the last couple of drops ooze into the
ribbed pouch.

Back in the bedroom, I got him on his knees next to my bed, moving
right in front of him, bulging jock pouch just inches from his face.
He could smell it, I knew he could. I'd worn that jock a solid week,
sweating in it, pumping a couple of loads into it, and like tonight
not always being careful when I tucked my meat back in it after a
good piss. "That jock's what you want, right, kid?" A slave to his own
lust now, all he could do was nod.

"Good boy. Now, get your face down here in my crotch. Smell it, smell
my sweat. Smell my balls right through the pouch. That sharper tang is
my hot man's piss, a few drops of golden dew there for you. And the
stiff patch is where I shot a big load in it last night. Smell it? smell
that dried man-cum? Want to lick it, don't you? Want to run your hot
tongue all over it while I rub it against your face and mouth. Feel my
cock getting harder under it. Oh yeah, I can tell you like it from the
way your dick is standing up like a flagpole in your crotch."

I grabbed the sides of his head, lacing my ingers in his long black
hair, pulling him into my crotch, feeling his tongue lash out to lick
at the funky jock, lap at it, make love to it.

I pulled his head out of my crotch. "Stand up now." When he did,
his slender young cock was saluting his navel. The fucking hot
young stud was royally truned on from sniffing and sucking my funky
old jockstrap.

I peeled the strap off, already ripe with my sweat and jism, and now
damp with his spit. His eyes fastened on my stiff cock, not as long
as his, but thicker, and on my completely shaved crotch, not a pubic
hair to be seen. His own cock danced in front of him, and I tosssed
him the strap.

"Put it on, kid. Yeah, that's right, pull that funky wet jock strap up
over your hard cock, stretch it even more. Yeah, cram that hard dick
into it. Love it don't you, your balls where mine have been all week?"

"Oh God, yes. I love wearing your jock!" Sure looked like he did.
Once he got it in place it looked like a teepee with way too large a
tentpole in it.

"Turn around, sexy, look at the bed. There on the pillow is a pair of
boxerbriefs I wore every fucking day this week. They smell like my big
horny nuts, like the jock, you just know they do. Get up there, babe,
bury your face in them and get your butt up in the air."

I said it, he did it. No hesitation. And oh, God! the view that gave
me!

"Oh fucking yes! Those jock straps just frame it, frame that sexy deep
crack in your baby-smooth butt. Spread those cheeks for me kid, and
smell those man's shorts, inhale 'em!"

Pete was so hard he was about to rip that jock strap right off,
but I grabbed his rigid pole in the jock, making sure it stayed on.

He moaned into my smelly, sweaty shorts when I started licking at
his smooth, golden cheeks, circling, closer and closer to the puckered
treasure at the middle. He howled in lust when I plunged my tongue
deep inside him, eating out his hot young sweet ass.

I could tell he was right on the verge of coming, but I grabbed his
big fat balls through the jock and squeezed hard, staving it off.
I was not ready for the randy younger man to cum yet.

I flipped him onto his back instead, yanking the jock off so we were
both naked and hard and sweaty with lust. I pinned him down to the
bed, grinding our bodies together, and raised one arm, covering his
face with my hot armpit. Our cocks slid between bare skin, drooling
lube, slipping and sliding over each other, while he ate out both of
my fragrant man-pits, lapping hungrily at them with his eager tongue.

I rolled us over so Pete was on top, and he left my pits, making his
way down my bod, sucking my nipples until they were as hard as my dick,
plastering all my thick chest hair to my skin with his spit. My hands on
his shoulders was the only hint he needed and he moved further, past
the rampant spear of my cock, pausing to give it a few long, hot lashes
of his eager tongue but then spreading my legs open.

"Oh yeah, babe! Go for those big bare cum-filled balls. No hair down
there man, but still lots of that ripe man-nut aroma I know you love.
Yeah babe, lick my balls, smell 'em, driving me wild. Eat those hot
nuts! Suck on 'em like you mean it and then shoot your fucking load
all over 'em! Come on my fucking bare nuts, baby!

He was trembling all over now, his cock a demanding girder in his hot
crotch, and with a guttural moan, he pulled up. Between my legs. One
stroke, two, and the young stud erupted like a geyser, blasting wad
after wad of hot young cream all over my shaved crotch, coating me with
the flood out of his exploding balls.

The minute he was through cuming, he plunged back down, licking it off
me, eating his own load off my bare gonads. But not all of it. I grabbed
the shorts from under my head, and wiped up the rest of my load and his
spit with them. As soon as I handed them to Pete, he knew what to do,
and pulled them on.

Now it was my turn. I pinned the still gasping stud to the bed on his
back, lashing at his armpits with my tongue until the silky black hair
was dripping. I chewed on those huge sexy nipples of his until he was
moaning. I plunged my tongue like a spear into his deep navel, lapping
the sweet-salty dew out of it. I shoved his knees upward and ate his
hot butt some more, right through the funky shorts this time, and then
went for his balls.

I inhaled that incredible smell that is unique to a hot young man who's
just shot a load. Nothing on earth can match it. Rooting in his groin,
smelling him, smelling me in the shorts, smelling my cum and his.

I was on fire, my cock so hard it was threatening to split. I licked
Pete's smooth, heaving body from neck to crotch one last time, then
pulled open the fly of the shorts containing his still-swollen meat and
shoved my straining cock inside with his, comming in a flood the minute
I did, soaking his dick and balls and the shorts with a monster of an
orgasm.

I collapsed on top of him, and we kissed, passionately and tenderly at
the same time. Both of our cocks were swimming in the cum-soaked crotch
of the grey shorts. I lifted my head to grin.

"Okay, Pete. You can take those shorts off. ... Sometime next week."


Net Connect (Hot Jock) Part 2 

        I couldn't believe my good fortune - what a hot date that was with
Fritz last week! I was honest about my stats on e-mail, always was, but
wasn't sure about him. Needless to say, when I saw Fritz - in damn good
shape and hot! - I knew right away the first 20 mintues would just fly. Fly
they did, and the next thing I knew the two of us were at it!

        Now it was time! I stood at Fritz's door and looked at my watch -
8:43pm. There was music from inside - Rachmaninov? - and I could hear my
heart racing as well. I was always punctual - at least I tried my darnest -
and considered it proper respect for others as much as for myself. Right
when the watch jumped to 8:45 I pushed the bell - lightly, twice. I breathed
deeply and let out a sigh. I waited, clutching what was in my jacket pocket
as if afraid it would disappear - that steadied my anticipation just a little...
                
        "Hello!" Fritz said cheerfully. "C'mon in."
        
        My eyes followed Fritz into the living room. What a nice package on
that man! Just two inches shorter than myself, Fritz's was a very
well-proportioned compact body. And the hair on his chest, just peeking out
of his forest green lounging robe, was so enticing. The cleft of Fritz's
strong chest was plainly visible even through the pelt. 

        "So, Pete, this is your call this time." Fritz said, looking
straight into my glassy dark eyes. 

        I swear I could just stand there and stare into Fritz's forever...
but that wasn't what I was there for.

        I'm not very talkative in a situation like that, and prefer to go
right to action. Without a word I approached my man and grabbed his face. As
we kissed I let my hands roam on his torso - just so I could feel his
contour through his robe. 

        He was caressing my back and ass when I broke away and sank to my
knees. I could feel the heat radiating from under the folds of his robe
right in my face. I had a good idea what I would reveal under the green
fabric, but I was still trembling at the thought of seeing it... 
        
        I dragged my hands down his chest and hooked them to the belt. With
one tuck it came loose, and the front of the robe fell open. I was tranfixed
at the revelation - a yellowish white cotton pouch snuggly holding what I
knew to be a hefty set of cock and balls. The shape of his cock, already
erect, shifted as it pulsed ever so slightly in the confining jock. His
balls - big and heavy - were churning, almost in rhythm with the throbbing
of the engorged prod. 

        That vision, however, was nothing compared to what my nose was
detecting. My face was about half a foot in front of Fritz's crotch, but his
intense musky odour was so strong I felt I was actually right on his skin.
There was no mistake - he did what I asked for last time before I left - he
didn't change his jockstrap since we last met. The sour sweat, the stale
piss, the dried cum - they were all there in the pouch - soaked, fermented,
ripe... 

        Pungent. 

        I raised my eyes and saw Fritz looking down at me - the supplicant
and the reverent. We held our gaze for one long moment as the solemnity
congealed in the air. Gently Fritz put his hands on my head as if blessing
me. With one deep breath and sigh I moved.

        "Ah......" 

        That was our simultaneous moan at the moment of contact. I put my
nose at the base of his cock in between the balls, feeling his enormous self
envelopping my entire face from forehead to chin. The warmth, the dampness,
the pulsation...

        The smell!

        Then I started to breathe rapidly. With each inhalation my nose was
assaulted by the stinging stench of his week-old filthy jock. I kept my
mouth closed to force every single particle of this heavenly scent through
my nose to my brain. 

        Without knowing it I started whimpering...

        "Ungh...unnnnngh!"

        Fritz was overcome by my writhing face in his swollen crotch and
started to grind into me. The harder he ground the louder I moaned.

        "Fritz...ah..."

        I put my hands on his ass and pulled him into me. My mouth dropped
open and I engulfed his balls. Even though I knew what he would taste like,
I was still stunned by the sharp sourness of the pouch. 

        "Mmm......" was all I could manage.

        As I was ready to pull down his jock and go straight to my prize
Fritz abruptly pulled from me and dragged me up. 

        "C'mon into the bedroom"

        I wasted no time and followed. On the way I started to unbutton my
jeans and my shirt. By the time I got to his bed I was stripped to my waist. 

        He had also taken off his robe and was lying on the bed in the full
glory of his well defined body with glistening sweaty hair on it. There was
a wet spot on his pouch. 

        I stood by the bed and took time to get out of my pants. That was
such a hot sight, my man in his throbbing jock displaying himself just for me!

        I was wearing one myself - a black CoolMax runners jockstrap. The
fabric was thin and absorbant. My cock was so hard that the pouch was
stretched to its limit. It was drooling and the top half of the jock was all
soaked. 

        During the previous week I had done everything in this jock -
working out, jerking off and everything in between. I knew the material
would retain every single drop of my sweat and cum. Now it's time to offer it.

        I climbed on the bed and knelt above Fritz. Without pause I lowered
my crotch into his face and made sure that his nose was aimed at the bottom
of the pouch, where the straps meet. 

        As soon as I landed I saw his cock jump. The wet spot spread. 

        "Mpgh!" The stifled groan sounded good. I smiled. 

        As I lowered my face onto his crotch I wriggled my hips and ground
my balls hard in Fritz's face. In response he did the same and thrust his
midsection up to me. I took his firm ass and pulled. He grabbed mine, hard,
and was really going at my pouch. 

        "Hey, Fritz!" I was gasping for air.

        "Yeah..." He didn't even let me lift up my crotch and his breath was
warm on the pouch.

        "This is my call, right?"

        "Hmm....uh huh...."

        With a strong yank I pulled down his jock and freed his dick. His
bare crotch was coated in a thick slimy film of precum, and I swear I could
see steam rising from it!

        "I want your cock!!" I hissed in heat.

        With one gulp I went to the bottom of his throbbing rod. I was
gagging and choking, but I forced myself to stay down. His spear was thrust
so deeply into my throat my body just had to struggle. My hips went wild -
bucking, thrusting, grinding. 

        "Ohhhhhmpgh..." was Fritz's response. 

        My throat was split and screaming in pain! My spit glands were
flooding my stretched mouth with mucus to ease the burning. I pulled back
enough so that I could breathe. As I withdrew my lips gave out and all the
spittle rushed out in a flood. 
        
        Fritz started to pump. The more he shafted my throat, the more I
slobbered, until my saliva ran down his balls and pooled on the bed. 

        Soon I felt Fritz's rod expand. Abruptly I squeezed his nuts and the
base of his rod roughly and pulled myself free. His angry and protesting
cock spasmed wildly, and turned into a dark plum colour under my
constricting grip.

        At the same time I lifted my crotch off his face and turned around.

        "Get a rubber!" I hoarsed said. 

        Still under my grip Fritz twisted his torso to reach the bedside
table. As he was doing that I reached for my jacket and took out another
jockstrap from its pocket. 

        I found this jockstrap in the gym that past week. I stole it while
this big muscle man took his shower. I had wanted to jerk off with it so
badly, but managed to hold on (barely) and saved it until then. 

        Working quickly, Fritz put on a condom. I scooped up my spittle and
his precum from his crotch and lubed myself. 

        I pulled his jock free from his legs and sniffed it. My head fell
back and my neck stretched taut as I inhaled one more time. As my chest
expanded I suddenly felt two sharp piercing pinch - Fritz had took my tits
and was squeezing hard. 

        "Argh...!"

        "What are you gonna do with all these jockstraps?" 

        "You'll see."

        Without any more ado I squatted above Fritz and aimed his spear with
my clutching hand.
        
        As soon as I felt the tip on my hole I simply let go of my thigh
muscles and let gravity do its job...
        
        With a 'slap' I crash landed and impaled myself on Fritz's pole. 

        "Ohhhhhhhh!" I cried out as my ass suddenly got pried open
unprepared. I had anticipated the pain, but it was still sharper than I
could tolerate without crying out. 

        As we stayed absolutely still for me to get used to his shaft I got
to work...
                
        I balled up the muscle guy's jock and gave it to Fritz.
Instinctively he knew what I wanted.

        While I was still panting from the searing pain in my hole Fritz
grabbed the back of my neck with one hand...
        
        With the other he shoved the dirty jock all the way to the back of
my throat.

        "Umph!" was all I could let out before the dry, coarse fabric grated
my lips and tongue. It tasted bitter and sour, and I had to breathe through
my nose.

        Then, swiftly, I put Fritz's jock over my head and wrapped the
straps around my neck. The point where the straps met the pouch was on my
forehead, and my nose was right in the centre of the stinking jock. The
rough fabric rubbed on my nose bridge and forehead and chin.

        With each breath I took my nose was raped by Fritz's stench - just
as my ass was raped by his cock.

        I steadied myself by putting my hands on his solid chest. His hair
on my palms felt so good! I looked straight into his eyes and begged silenty...

        Fuck Me! Now!!

        Right on cue he started boring into me. It was torturously slow, but
unspeakably delicious, especially when his head rubbed against my prostate
on every stroke. 

        Gradually he picked up his pace and used the spring of the mattress
to help with his thrusting.

        As my fire was rising, fuelled by the constant assault of the
jock-smell in my head, I leaned back and extended my legs straight out in
front of me until my ankles were on his shoulders. 

        Again, instinctively, Fritz understood, and he manoeuvred his legs
under his ass. 

        We locked arms and pulled. In a second I was on my back, ass lifted
high, and Fritz was kneeling in front of me. 

        Without missing a beat he kept up his plugging. As we settled in our
new position his strokes got longer and faster. Soon he was using his full
weight to send himself all the way into my ass.

        The urgency of his fucking was fast becoming vicious. Deeper and
deeper he plunged, harder and harder he fucked. 

        To maxmize the force Fritz got himself into a push-up posture - arms
vertical, legs straight, hips drilling right down to the core of me. 

        With each merciless plunge air was squeezed out of my lungs. Every
time he withdrew the vacuum inside me drew more intoxicating sodden musk
from my jock gag and mask. 

        I was beyond ectasy.

        My jock-strapped cock and balls were so swollen that they were
aching. And my prostate was so battered it didn't have anymore precum to
give. By this time my pouch was totally drenched. 

        A low rumble came from the back of Fritz's throat. It got more and
more guttural and his hips went into overdrive. I had to grab his shoulders
to steady myself so that my shoulders would not slip under us. He fucked and
fucked and fucked...

        ...and at the peak of the violence, everything stopped.

        "ARRRRGGGHHHH!"

        I saw his contorted face as his last dive into me lodged in place. I
grabbed his rock hard ass and pulled for dear life, and he blasted.

        As his cock exploded the pressure in my ass ripped through my body
and triggered my own release.

        "Ggggggggrrrrrrrrrrrr!" was the only sound I could make throught the
gag, but inside I was screaming and screaming.

        Our bodies were convulsing together as we unloaded. It was as if he
were blasting himself into me and then out of me through my cock. I was
cumming double - discharging for him and myself. All our essence was
collected in my jockstrap. 

        As we were still shooting our eyes connected. He lowered himself and
landed his mouth right on mine through his jockstrap in my face. He panted
into my stuffed mouth and ground his lips on my stretched ones. 

        My ass was spasming in a series of violent grips that milked his
skewer deeply planted in me. As more of my own juice shot in my saturated
jock I could feel dribbles of cum land on my stomach and chest. 

        By the time our convulsions calmed down, we were a big heap of
sweat. Slowly he pulled out, and he took his time to give my ass one last
long slide. 

        I lowered my legs and took off my jockstrap. It was dripping. I
handed it to him and took off his jock-mask from my face. I also pulled out
the jock-gag, now soggy with saliva.

        He was still holding my cum-drenched jock when I closed my eyes and
lifted my face. Roughly he shoved the slimy pouch in my face, and I put my
hand on his to grind it in. As he smeared my face with my own sperm I
writhed and groaned.

        When he stopped I could smell nothing but the divine odour of fresh
cum. 
        
        Kneeling beside me, Fritz looked down with a glowing smile.

        "Now that's what I call making the best out of jockstraps!"

        I could not reply, as I was busy licking my lips. 

        "Come here!" I said at last, arms extended, and we fell in a
satiated embrace.


 Hot Jocks (Fritz & Pete) Part 3.

   Jesus, but Pete was one hot fuck. The younger stud was as much of
a jock freak as I was. After that wild jock-gagged fuck, we put 'em
back on, switching, of course. Me in that silky black number of his,
still slimy with his load, and him in two weeks worth of everything
I could season the old Bike with. We made out, Pete proving he could
kiss as good as he sucked, grinding them together. Hard to say which
turned me on more. His hungry lips and tongue, those cruddy jocks
shoving our swollen crotches together, or the wealth of aromas filling
my nose and brain. Nothing smells as good as a hot young man after
good sex, which Pete certainly was, and I was pretty musky myself.

   Both of us knew we could go for round two, but we weren't in any
hurry, since we both also knew this would not be the last time.
After a bit, we started drifting off, jock to jock. The last waking
thought I had, my arms surrounding his smooth slim body and his
smell surrounding both of us, was: I'll never wash these sheets.
Or that jock.

   I woke up on my stomach. It took a minute to separate the wild
dream I'd been having from reality, but when I did, I knew where
the dream came from. I was hard as a rock in the dark stud's cummy
jock, my legs were spread, and there was a hot, wet man's tongue
probing for my soul through the hole between the jock straps. A
very long, hot wet tongue.

    "Unnggghh!" I growled, waking up and arching my back to shove
my butt even more firmly against his face. I felt him start to move,
but I wake up quick, and my hand was faster. I reached behind me,
grabbed the back of his neck, and said: "Don't stop what you were
doing just because I'm awake, you hot fucker."

   "Mmmphh!" I took that to be a statement of assent. It was hard to
tell exactly what he was saying with his nose in my crack, his tongue
in my guts and his face cheeks pressed to my asscheeks. But he sure
didn't stop!

   I managed to pull up onto my knees, and he stayed right with me,
rimming my funky sleep-sweaty butt like he'd invented (or at least
perfected) the practice. This was better. I could see more. Looking
between my legs, I could see that long slim uncut meat of his, hard
as my own was, and dangerously stretching the old pouch of that Bike.
Looking to my right, I saw exactly what I hoped for, a foil square
on the night table.

   When his tongue felt like it was an inch or so from my kidneys, I
raised my head and growled again. "You got that manhole wet and open,
babe. Now screw it hard!"

   That stopped him. He pulled out of my crack, and I turned to see
those big dark eyes of his widened in surprise. The eyes were showing
surprise, but his luscious mouth couldn't quite fight off the grin.
"You mean it?"

   "Hell yes, I mean it. I figure if you fuck half as good as you take
a fuck, it'll be a helluva way to start the day."

   "I... I..." Sexy Pete was tongue-tied. I grinned. "There's a new
rubber right there on the table, man. Get it on and get it in."

   It took him ninety seconds, if that, to have that hot young pole of
his out of the side of my jock and sheathed in latex. He started to
move in, paused again. "Uh, should I get any lube..."

   I laughed. "With a quart of your spit dripping out of my hole? Just
gimme that dick!"

   Now his grin split his face. "Oh, Fuck, Fritz!"

   "That's what I'm saying: Fuck Fritz. Now stop yapping, studpup, and
start fucking!"

    "Aaaggghhh!" That was mutual, a long sigh of pure pleasure from both
our throats as every fucking inch of that beautiful cock of his slid home
in my grasping, spit lubed chute. Pete didn't stop until I could feel
the rough mesh pouch of my own fucking jock pressed against my butt. He
only paused for a moment, inhaling a deep breath, and then fucking went
wild.

  There's an old baseball saying: good catchers make good pitchers, and
the hot young stud was proving it that morning. Plowing my butt like
a pile-driver, clutching my waist for dear life, he took me at my word
and screwed me hard and deep. My own cock was imitating an ax-handle
in the tight confines of his thin black runner's jock, only ax-handles
don't drip like an open tap.

   "Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" The grunts forced out of his throat, and the
deeper-than-ever thrusts of his throbbing pole told me the end was
near. I snaked a hand down between my open thighs, and grabbed his
hard young nuts through the jock, squeezing. "OOOHH FUUUCK YEESSSSS!"

   Slam! All the way home. Jock grinding my cheeks, hard young stud-
pole twitching and jerking, pulsing against my already battered
love-nugget. That was all she wrote. I volcanoed into the CoolMax.

   Some time later, Pete could breathe again. "Oh, God!" he sighed,
slowly starting to soften inside me.

   "Say it again for me, I can't talk," I sighed. But immediately
proved myself wrong. "You gotta let me up soon, though, kiddo. I
don't know if you've been up already, but you woke me up. My cock's
swimming in another load in this sexy jock of yours, but now I have
to empty something besides my balls. Real soon."

   Halfway out of my ass, he froze. "Fritz?"

   I looked over my shoulder. Jeez, the look in those dark eyes was
wild! "Yeah, sexy?"

   "Don't take the jock off yet."

   "I gotta piss, babe."

   "Uh-huh." He completed his withdrawal, adroitly got rid of the
totally filled condom. Wasn't his first time on that side of a fuck,
I could tell. And was on his feet before I was. "Follow me," he
gasped. To the gates of hell, stud, I thought, but where he headed
was the john off my bedroom. I would have beelined for the bowl,
but he grabbed my arm, and next thing I know I'm standing in my
own tub. "Go on. Piss. Piss in that jock with my cum and yours. Let
it go!"

   No problem there, my bladder was already yelling at me. All I
had to do was unlock the valve. "Ahhhhh!" I cut loose, a real
morning-piss flood. Oh yes! The black fabric was thin, but it wasn't
mesh like a standard jock, it was a tighter weave. It held it in at
first, until there was just too much. It was hot, body-warm, dripping
through the pouch, running out the leg openings down my legs.

   Mixing with my fresh load, his from last night, a slimy flood of
man-juices, coating my shaved nuts, sluicing into my sensationally
well-fucked ass. And Jeez! the Smell!

   Finally, there wasn't any more. I was empty. Pete was staring at
my soaked crotch almost glassy-eyed. "Take it off, now. Give it
back to me."

   I managed to get the jock down my legs and off, but it was just
fucking dripping. He reached out, but I pulled it back, still holding
it over the tub. "What are you going to do?"

   "Put it on," he croaked.

   I laughed. "Pete, you crazy hot fucker. You're as sick as I am. I
like that in a man. But no. Not unless you want to climb in this tub
and stay here. What this sucker's dripping would get a house condemned
in most states." I draped it over the towel rack. "You can have it back,
but let it drain a little first."

   "Okay," he grinned. "I'm not leaving without it, though."

   "Don't give me ideas. I'll hide it. Now, give me a minute to shower
at least part of all this off, and it's breakfast time."

   He looked down his lanky body, naked except for my jock with his
long uncut hose hanging out of one side. "I could use a shower, too.
That tub big enough for two?"

   "Get your sexy butt in here!"


--------

   That was last weekend. We had another date for the next Friday night,
of course - same time same place, but midweek my pal Rudy called, and
I had an idea. I asked, and Rudy said sure, no problem. I called Pete
that night.

   "Hey, stud."

   "Fritz. Good to hear from you," he said, but I could hear the
worry in his voice. "Uh, there's no problem with Friday, is there?"

   "Not at all. But do you have any other plans for the rest of next
weekend?"

   "Nothing I can't cancel or reschedule, why?"

   "Buddy of mine has a great country house up on Lake Baxter. It's
not roughing it or anything, it's a real house. But it's on forty
acres of lakefront property, and all by itself. No neighbors to
get nosy. He's fixed up a small but well equipped gym in the basement,
with a sauna, even. He's not using it this weekend, we can have it
all to ourselves if you can get free. Go up Friday after work, come
back Sunday. What do you say?"

    I could hear his laugh over the phone, and see that great smile of
his in my mind's eye. "Let me check my social calendar," he said, then
laughed again. "Are you kidding? That sounds great? What time Friday?"

    "Can you be here by 6:30?"

    "Only if I dawdle."

    My turn to laugh. "Okay, make it 6:00."

    That set, I went to my closet and took out the old gym bag I'd had
since high school. I opened it, grinned at the contents. Oh, yeah,
Petey-baby, we're gonna have a _good_ time up at the lake.


To be continued in part 4.