Short, Sweet

Today I pumped about a quart of grade-A spooge into the mouth of a verrrry cute little guy with a muscular body, stupendous ass, and a nice trim beard. I certainly can't whine about slim pickings today. I was accosted on Manhunt right away this morning by a nice looking guy from out of town who said he wanted to work the cum out of me but was busy till 4, so I had that on the back burner. But knowing how these things go, I decided to put some other feelers out there. I had five days of sperm production packed into my nuts, and *supposedly* I'm going to fuck a tight-bodied little twentysomething tomorrow afternoon-- again, I know how these things go, but if he's for real and comes through, I need to be in top form, with my ducts well-exercised, so I can dig my tool into that body for as long as possible. And that meant getting milked good today. So I tried another Craigslist ad, and was deluged with replies. One cocksucker was a 6'3, 290 pound hairy monster bodybuilder with a hot bearded face who was saying all the right things as we traded a few emails. But exactly simultaneously, Short and Sweet appeared on Manhunt, also saying the right things. He was only 5'7-- perfect for fucking, a little small for servicing; Six Three Monster would have been very hot between my thighs-- but he was a lot cuter in the face (it turns out he's an actor, and they're always really handsome). They were both up in Hell's Kitchen, about two blocks apart, so neither was any easier to get to. So I decided, well, whoever advances to the address stage first would get the load. Six Three Monster dallied a little bit while Short and Sweet texted me his location, so I ran to the train.

On the train I was feeling a little apprehensive. The guy's pix were extremely attractive and I am feeling unusually schlubby today; I began to imagine I'd go all that way and he wouldn't be into me. Anxiety and sex don't go together, of course, so I started worrying I wouldn't get hard for him! There was a really hot guy standing next to me on the train, with a trim, shapely, hairy body. I could not take my eyes off of him because his ass was straining tauntingly against his slacks, and the way his belt ran around his slender little waist, dipping down above his package, with those ample cheeks pulling his pants back like that, made it impossible to look anywhere else. I decided I would use him to calm down and get me out of the anxiety space and into the sexy space. Feeling extremely pervy, I put my hand in my pocket, and reached around a bit until I was holding my dickhead through the fabric of the pocket (I typically don't wear underwear, especially when I'm going to hook up) and just held my glans while I stared at his swelling buttocks and beautiful hairy wrist and meaty hands. I felt my shriveled meat swell and thicken in my fingers, and my insecurity slowly began to drain away as my mind switched into horny mode. I am not sure if the (also fairly handsome and built) latino security guard across the train from me was watching my hand or not; I wasn't beating off or seriously boned or anything, just holding my dick in my fingers. But he seemed to be staring at my groin, so I dropped my dick and pulled out my cell phone and sighed at how slow the train was going.

Sexy Ass got off at Union Square and I rode the rest of the way with nondescript passengers. When I got off the train I texted Short and Sweet to let him know I was close, and a msg was waiting from him asking if I wanted another guy to join us. I did not, thank you, and it kinda took the wind out of my sails-- I know bottoms are greedy little bastards and most of them would take a zillion dicks at once if they could, but a top (or at least, this top) really likes to feel you're hot for *him*, not taking all comers. I texted him no thanks, and he said to disregard that message, that he was all ready for me, and that he hadn't eaten all day and my jizz was going to be his breakfast.

He answered the door in a jockstrap and a tank top. I really don't much like jockstraps-- I would much rather have seen him in some tight briefs swelling over his ass and junk-- but I admit his ass looked wonderful. He was not as ripped as his pictures, which helped a bit with any residual intimidation. He had gotten a little soft around the middle but still had amazing shoulder and back muscles and really thick thighs. "Ready to suck some dick, big guy?" I asked, going in for the kiss. He was very, very cute, and kissed me back beautifully. "You are the only one who had the right attitude," he told me between kisses, as he groped around at my shorts fabric looking for my meat. He had put up one of those Manhunt ads asking for dicks to suck; that's how I noticed him. "You get a lot of responses from an ad like that but no one has the right attitude." I turned his body around and stroked the curves of his buttocks as he talked, nodding appreciatively. "I got a lot of cum for you today," I promised. "We're going to have a good time." And I turned him back, pushed him to his knees, and told him to work my dick with his tongue slowly while I got hard. And he did it just right-- why don't more men know how to suck a dick?-- and my penis lengthened centimeter by centimeter, growing thicker and veinier, until it had stretched down into his throat and gotten fully hard.

And we did have a good time. He had the couch set up with a towel on it, so I trotted over there, sat back, and let him do his thing. He was getting me extremely excited almost right away. I'm not a big fan of deep throat. Most guys make a hash of your meat when they do that, unable to control what their teeth and tongues are doing when you're in them up to the nuts. But his throat was warm and velvety and he made every inch of my dick feel loved. I wrapped my legs around his back and gripped his shoulders while he milked the whole length of my tool with his throat, and I felt like I was going to cum. So I pushed him off, stood up, pulled off my polo, pushed him over on the couch, and ate the fuck out of him. I was kneeling on some very fuzzy fake-polar-bear rug, so long fluffy fibers kept somehow finding their way into my beard. But his ass was heaven, and when I probed it with my tongue it opened to suck it in. Very hot. His balls were firm and tight and his dick was very hard and fat but didn't feel very big in the jockstrap. Having had enough of that, I pulled it off him and threw it across the room. Now I could lick everything and hold his nuts and grips his tool, which was hard enough to cut diamonds.

I had him lie across the lounge part of his modular couch, with his head hanging off the edge, and stuck my dick in his face and pumped. His own dick and balls were staring me in the face between those meaty muscular legs. His dick actually looked fatter than mine, maybe an inch or so shorter, but had a beautiful curve to it. My own dick is ramrod straight, which I regret-- curved dicks are beautiful to me, and mind is so boring-- so I decided I had to suck him. His dickhead was hard, meaty, obscenely thickly ridged around his tubesteak, and pretty much perfect. He made it clear he was enjoying this and wanted to me to take it all in my mouth while he did the same, and so I did-- I gripped his thighs just above his buttocks my with hands, pulling him into me, with my nose in his balls, and I felt his beard on my own balls, and we were in each other as deep as we could go, and were both just throbbing. Tell me it's not a beautiful thing to be gay!

I pulled out, walked around to look at him right-way up, and laid down on top of him, sliding my dick alongside his. His couch was leather-covered and rather tiresome-- I wish we'd been able to go into the bed, but had to make do with this clammy surface. His head was still hanging over the edge, so I cradled it from behind and ground my dick into him as best I could, but I felt like I would cum if I moved too much-- his body was very exciting, so short but so manly and firm and full of muscle. So I just held his head against mine, and stroked his flank with my free hand while he wiggled against me with pleasure. I felt his thighs hiked up beside my hips, too hot. I had to get off or I would cum. My dick was like a hammer at this point, almost painfully hard and engorged. "You're close, aren't you?" he asked me, with a smirk. "I got a lot of cum for you today," I repeated, and he made a face of mock disbelief. "Oh really?" "I do," I said.

I sat back and let him do more magic. He was so fucking good, sucking every inch, long and slow, up and down, tonguing my hot spot just right. But it was too much, and I couldn't muster the will to make him stop. "Aw fuck you're gonna make me... you're making me cum," I said, at just the point where anyone could tell the statement was redundant.

I fired hard, hot shots into him, and he upped the ante, sucking me very, very firmly, focusing on just that tiny strip that leads from my pisshole to the bottom of my glans, at most an inch of skin but packed with all the best nerves, the nerves that control my whole fuckin brain, and during my orgasm that little strip expanded to fill the whole room. My whole field of consciousness was nothing but an inch of skin below my gushing, spewing cumhole; he was making me lose all my faculties and making me cum harder than I have in a long, long time. And I could hear him gulping me down as I shot and shot.

Until, suddenly, his mouth exploded with goo like a sealed container of yogurt left out in the sun-- thick white slime just shot out of him, with an audible SPLAT noise, all over my dick and my pubes. And he coughed, and a long thick rope of me dripped off his lower lip into his hand. He looked at me, and ate the cum in his hand while I jerked a few more spurts out of myself which mostly ran down over my fist.

"You weren't fucking kidding," he said, with a look of real disbelief on his face this time, as he watched me finish my orgasm. He was diddling himself as well, but did not look like he was going to get off. "Too much?" I asked, and he shook his head, still looking at my dick and my hairy gut and my chest. He grabbed my nip and pulled on it, running his other hand over my body hair. "No, I just wasn't swallowing fast enough. I guess I wasn't prepared. Damn!" he said, watching me soak the corner of the towel with the oozing fuckjuice. We kissed a bunch, and he got me a wet cloth to clean up with, and we kissed a bunch more. "You have an awesome mouth," he said, "it felt so good on my ass." And I admired and kneaded his rear some more, and we held each other a bit and I got dressed.

He had a wonderful sexual energy, and we talked about how rarely you find that. He followed me around the apartment, a little like a puppy, as I retrieved my watch, shorts, polo, and shoes. I kissed him one last time before I left, tasting my own briny genetic slime on his breath; it was unusually sweet mixed with his saliva. "If you need more cum, you know who to call," I told him. I'd love to cum in his body next time, but not sure he's into that. He's the perfect kind of bottom-- handsome, muscular, short, big-assed, kissable, cum-crazed. We shall see.

I looked at my watch in the elevator as I plunged down to the street-- barely half an hour. Not nearly as much as I'd hoped, but he really cleared my head, and I feel great. I fuckin love sex.