Hot/Cold

Today I came in the mouth of a totally jacked 29 year old-- very unassuming looking jock-like Latin guy whose flesh had the kind of thickness that made me need to squeeze and squeeze them. He was about 5'8 but seemed much taller because of his impressive musculature. Today is dreary and my work was very tedious, and I dangled my dick out on craigslist for several hours, garnering maybe three pitiful replies, most clearly not serious at all. And then Jacked Jack came long when I'd about given up. I felt sure he'd flake on me, and lined up a backup plan in Battery Park City with a tall, long-suffering guy who has been after my cum for almost a year now. But Jacked Jack came through, and he that rarest gift the heavens bestow on someone like me-- sensual, skilled, sensitive, tactile, affectionate, hung, oversexed... pretty much everything I ever want in a bottom. Except he had the oddest demeanor, and I'm not sure what to make of it.

He showed up, having driven all the way across the island from Bay Ridge at rush hour, with a punctuality that impressed even me. He looked pretty fantastic-- you could tell his stomach was firm through his polo shirt and I couldn't resist patting it as I led him through the foyer to the living room and offered him some water. This made him jump a little, and he wasn't looking at me, and did want water-- typically just a formality I offer-- all of which made me wonder if he would stall and bolt. I've been with all kinds of bodies, including more than a few serious body builders, but his body-- a natural, sporty, truly athletic-looking muscle, not preened over or aesthetically "worked"-- is actually a type that never hooks up with me (I'm a hairy schlub). I expected the worst but played it cool, got him his water, talked a bit about my "awesome" apartment, and then nudged things along, asking if he wanted to get down to it. He nodded and followed me to the bedroom, but still wasn't really looking at me.

We faced off in the bedroom and I figured the kiss would be the clincher. I moved in and he met me more than halfway, kissing full-lipped and with a verrrry appealing hungry suction that I have not experienced recently, if at all, and it made the blood rush to my meat immediately. I gripped his body eagerly. He was not hard as a rock, which turns me off actually, but that supple firmness that is hard to describe-- overripe mangoes?-- but is the most fantastic thing you can experience with your hands as a gay man. His shape felt Platonically perfect; apparently I've been in a dark sexual cave my whole life, facing the wrong way, while this kind of sex incarnate was out walking around in the light of the real world. The intense kissing, the feeling of his meaty body in my grasp, and his hands all over me had me dizzy. I pulled out my dick and told him to get on his knees and prayed this would not be a disappointment. And it wasn't-- I should have known from his kiss how he would suck.

And from this point on, he had no trouble looking at me at all, and in fact looked at me more than most guys do. I pulled him up once he'd gotten my dick so hard the head was flaring angrily, and brought him in for another kiss. And we locked gazes as we made out. Even the flesh on his face had that firm fullness, even his ears. He was made out of a magic substance quite different from whatever makes me up, and I wanted to fuck it more than I wanted to keep breathing. When he took off his clothes, revealing tight black low-rise briefs, I felt like every magazine underwear ad I looked at when I was a kid was coming flooding back. The shape of his body, the hair on his legs, the way his posture curved elegantly as he pulled off his shorts, it all tapped into something deep that I've longed for my whole life, before I even knew why.

He wanted poppers and I've learned that they bother me less if I uncap them and put them under the bottom's nose while he inhales-- it feels extremely illicit somehow, but also feels like another substance I'm injecting into him, like my saliva or my cum, and I kinda like it. He took four or five extremely deep, brain-damaging hits, and then lolled around in my lap like a content schnauzer with a sausage. The shape of his body between my legs was a force of nature. I wish it was here with me now. His dick looked huge and meaty against his frame. It was exactly the same size, thickness, and shape as mine, just uncut. But on him it looked gigantic. What more beautiful sight is there than a guy hunched over your dick on his haunches, with smooth muscles rippling from bicep to bicep over the shoulders and across the trapezius, and there in the shaded space between his legs is a thick bountiful sex organ bristling with short hairs? What kind of heaven is it that you can reach out and touch it?

His nipples were sensitive to strong pulling and biting, especially if I held one between my incisors, not-quite chewing on it, but slowly increasing the pressure halfway down the length of the nip, and slowly pull it from side to side by turning my head, tugging his pectoral muscle along with it until all was taut. This seemed to put him into orbit. I got on top of him and he pressed his body into mine greedily, held my back close, wrapped his legs around me, looked deep into my eyes, stroked my biceps. The closeness and contact was intoxicating. Gripping his knees, I pushed his heavy thighs back so they were perpendicular to his body, pushing his groin up into mine, and grinding my fat dick against his. We were precumming all over each other. We were kissing like crazy. I wanted to cum and I wanted desperately not to cum. I curled around him and we sucked each other simultaneously. His dick was incredible. His body was unbelievable; I still can't believe it, I wish it was still here.

He wouldn't let me rim him, clenching his legs together when I went down there-- I guess he was not prepared. "Usually, but not today," he said with a sheepish smile. So I just sat there, like a mindless idiot holding my dick, stroking his thighs and his buttocks, wishing, wishing. I lay on top of him and snaked my dick down between his thighs and mimed fucking him. He opened those beautiful thighs up a bit and let me slide my dickhead over his hole, and moaned. If I stuck my dick in him at that point I would have lost all my faculties and would probably still be ejaculating.

He gave great head but we spent most of the hour we were together pressed together, like Aristophanes' two-backed beast, sucking each others lips, fucking each other's dick, just kneading each other's body and getting as close as possible. His legs around my waist, my hand on one firm round buttock pulling him to me hard, the other cradling his head gently as we hungrily made out. If only my dick had been inside him.

I finally had to cum, and laid back, and asked him to suck me slow. And he did, maddeningly so, but it was what I needed to really feel the orgasm. I let him tease me and my nuts grew incredibily sore. So I told him, a little harder, and he sucked me a little harder. And my nuts were throbbing with tension. So I told him, a little harder, and he sucked me a little harder. And I felt the cum overflowing my ducts even before my dick started firing. A flood of cum ran out with the precum I'd been oozing into his mouth, and my dick was growing ever thicker and ever harder, and then the explosion began. Cum was running down my shaft. He looked at me rather desperately, but kept at his task, and sucked harder, beating his own beautiful tool furiously. And I kept cumming and cumming till it really was just overflowing all over me. He sat up and I told him to cum on me-- something I almost never want, but I think I would have swallowed HIS cum at this point, he was so sexy to me. And he came hot and wet all over my belly, and the sight of him reared up, all his muscles on display, tense, glistening with sweat, fringed only on the limbs with hair, made me cum again. I came a few small squirts more in his cum. It was fucking fantastic.

And then? He jumped out of bed instantly, asked for the bathroom, and washed out his mouth. I rummaged around to get a towel for myself-- I'm never properly prepared for some reason. He asked again if I was sure I was negative, and I told him I'd just been tested two weeks ago. He nodded with something like relief. "You came a lot," he said rather flatly, but with what must have been admiration. He was back to not looking at me, or doing so very warily. But he did want some more water. So we went to the kitchen.

We talked a bunch and he seemed to be warming up, asking me a bunch of questions about myself. When I mentioned I moved up here with my partner, he seemed to shut off again, and ran off pretty quickly after that. Very odd.

I am hugely tempted to post a picture of his body, wearing the same briefs he showed up in today. I feel like I have to crow about what I got hard and came in, share the picture and have everyone go "Wow!" and "Hot!" and "Lucky bastard!" Or maybe you'd all yawn. But I can't stop looking at it and thinking about it, even though I have to go cook dinner now and act like a normal person, not a fancy life-support system for a dick and eyeballs and appetite. I haven't been filled with this much desire in a long, long time after sex. I need to fuck him and will make an ass out of myself before too long, asking him to let me in sometime. I'm not sure he was into me at all, to be honest, given how he acted when he got here. But the way he was in bed, when we were close, naked, covered in each other's sweat? Is that something you can fake? What just happened?

Odd.