Dream Man
I felt him writhing beneath me. We rolled over the grassy spot just beyond the lake. The misty morning air surrounded us as we arched into each other, joined up in frenzied mating. I could see his stomach muscles ripple beneath the sweat-soaked hair. I could feel his cock pressed into my belly as I moved within him. The mist of early dawn obscured his face. But I knew him anyway. I had seen him before, loved him before. I knew his body as well as I knew my own. But I had yet to see his face. As I built up, arching over and over into him, the cool, wet morning air chilled my sweaty, burning skin. I felt the hair on my chest matt with the sweaty efforts of our lovemaking. I kept moving inside him, feeling him grow and thicken against my belly. He milked me with his beautiful body, causing my own release to coincide with his. I bellowed out …
… I awoke to sweaty, tangled sheets. My underwear was soaked with my release. I still tingled and shook with aftershocks. I was so hard still. I lay spent in my sprawling bed, catching my breath. I was so frustrated. This dream had been coming to me night after night for weeks. It was always the same man. I could see his body, I knew every curve and ridge from his toes to his chin, but I hadn”t seen any further. I knew he was dark haired, almost black. He was tall, almost as tall as my six-six. His chest was matted with unbelievably thick, curly, infinitely soft hair. He was strong, muscled naturally from working with his hands. They were calloused and rough. His shoulders were strong, much broader than his hips. His legs had wrapped themselves around me numerous times. I can still feel that soft hair, the rippling strength bracing my hips as I plunge into his heat. This has got to stop.
I crawled out of bed and dropped my soaked knit boxers in the hamper as I walked to the shower. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair, both on my head and body, was matted and mussed with sweat. Whereas my dream man”s body was hulking and corded with muscles, my body was that of a tiger or dolphin. I was sleek and graceful, choosing to run and swim rather than pump iron. My eyes trailed down my mirrored doppelganger. I was still so very erect. I was so engorged that the head was shiny. Each vein stood out in sharp relief and pulsed with my heart. There was still a bluish, milky trace of my slumberous orgasm slicking under my foreskin. I reached my hand down and smoothed it over its surface. My middle finger and thumb didn”t quite meet as I grasped myself. I watched in the mirror as I fisted myself. My hand smoothed back my foreskin, peeling it over the engorged head then pushed it back. I felt my eyes roll back in my head and I felt my dream lover take my hand”s place. I felt his calloused thumb slick over the sensitive ridge on the top of my cock. His strong, long fingers fisted me, milking a response from me. The hand moved faster, skimming the sensitive nerves, strumming me to pleasure. I heard my breath hitch and I started to pant. My testicles rose up and I tingled, inching over the edge. The first spasm gripped me, propelling semen out at explosive force. I opened my eyes to watch my first spurt hit he mirror, followed by a thick second then very loose and wet third. I became aware of the cold marble tiles at my feet as I again worked to equal my breathing. I watched as my image became distorted as my essence ran down the mirror”s shiny surface. I grabbed a towel and wiped it up before heading to my shower.
A few hours later I sat at my desk in my office, overlooking Manhattan. I had always found peace in the view, but not today. The dreams were killing me. Desire was turning into an obsession. At twenty-three, I was at the top of my game, king of the world. But I was already tired of it. A thought that had only been a vague notion before the madness of my dreams started began to take root. I needed to get away. My work was suffering and I spent more time wishing I could be asleep if only just to see him and feel him again. That night, as I rode the train home, I fell asleep …
… We met by the lake, neither of us wasting any time to get there. I felt him walk up behind me. He whispered something that sounded like a mumble, but somehow I understood it, as “I love you.” I was already breathing hard feeling my chest heave for breath at what I knew would follow. My dream lover began to skim my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, kissing my warm skin as he went. I fisted my hands in his hair and lifted him for my kiss. I brushed my lips over his as our tongues caressed. I felt his shoulders and moved my hands down his back, under the band of his jeans. I pushed my fingers under the elastic of his underwear and cupped his strong, dimpled ass. I skimmed a finger through the cleft and brushed it through warm hair and sleek heat, searching for his center. I removed one hand and moved it to unbutton his jeans, allowing my other hand greater motion. Once freed of the confine, the jeans slid off his hips and pooled at his feet. My hand moved faster as I tasted his lips. I pushed into him with one finger and felt him shudder beneath me. I kept pushing into him, parting him, making him ready for me. I was so hard and felt pre-cum push through my slit, wetting my boxers. Then my dream man pulled away from my lips, his diaphanous face was still shrouded to me, but I heard him clear his throat than announce my stop …
… I awoke to find myself sweaty and achy. I stood before the train could move on. I couldn”t hide my erection. The tent was obvious. I heard one guy snicker and an older woman smiled at me, leering at my aroused state. I felt the blush rise from my neck as I stepped off the train onto the milling platform. I crawled into my car and drove home. Once there I sought out my shower. It had six nozzles set at varying heights off of three pipes with a central rainmaker over my head. I turned them all blistering cold, willing the frigid water to reign in my erection that hadn”t calmed in the thirty minutes since awaking on the train. After several shivering minutes, I gave up and turned the water scalding and took matters into my own hands, refusing to give in to the urge to fantasize about my dream man. After just a few strong tugs, I exploded, coating the wall of my shower.
Every time I slept, even for a nap, I entered my dream man”s lair. At first it had been pleasant with few details. But each subsequent night, the details filled in. The lake and the grassy spot by it, the mist and the dawn, a few rocks and the trees all took shape and stood out in detail in the dream. Even my mystery lover became more real with each passing nocturnal encounter. There was a scar on his thigh, the left one, about three inches above his knee in one long arch. There was also an inoculation booster shot scar on his left shoulder. His belly button was inward and his shaft was uncircumcised. But most importantly was the cross he wore round his neck. That detail became clear this morning.
With each passing night, I became more convinced that he was real. Something was causing me to dream about him. I just didn”t know what it was. The following Saturday, while watching television, I saw my lake. There was a special on castles in Ireland and near one of them, was a lake, straight from my dream. The willow tree by its side and the rock that jutted from the water were so familiar. I had made love with my guy on that rock, under the willow, on the grassy slope leading back to the castle. My God, I knew where he was. I dropped everything and rushed to the phone, intending to fly to Ireland immediately. But just as I picked up the receiver, logic clouded my mind. I needed to plan this out. I needed to know some things first. So I decided to wait, giving myself two weeks.
During the two allotted weeks, I did some research. I found out the nearby castle was in a state of neglect, which was what the special was about. I looked into it and figured that if I was going to Ireland; I might as well have a reason. I stepped down from my position in the family holdings, becoming a silent partner. I would use the considerable assets I had, but no longer worry about the day-to-day running of the company. When I signed the papers of control, I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. I knew I had made the right decision. I also worked with the Irish government to purchase the castle and the lake property surrounding it. My intention was filed and I was awaiting approval to begin renovations. Now I had an excuse to visit.
After two short weeks, I found myself sitting on a 747, winging my way to Dublin. Once I had made my decision to go, the dreams became sharper, almost real. I even once felt like I was having a dream while awake. I was sitting in my chair, reading about the castle, when I felt his hands on me. I put down the papers and felt the sensation of skin skimming over my skin. It was the strangest sensation. Then I felt as if his mouth were covering my cock. I wasn”t touching myself, but it felt as if he was moving over me. The sensations grew tighter and tighter within me. I knew I was close to cumming. I felt his mouth move away. Then I felt him sit on my lap. I could feel the soft hair on his ass and legs caress me. I felt him part over my shaft. I felt his back rub in the hair on my chest. Then he began to move. Over and over he rode on my shaft, eliciting tight, spiraling sensations. I felt his heat and wetness. Then I felt him clench me, as if he had found his release. He kept bouncing, until I followed him over the edge. I had my eyes open and I was looking at the walls of my living room, but I felt his body milk an orgasm from me. I felt the wetness seep into my shorts and slacks. I felt the clenching of my muscles with each spurt of release. I collapsed back against my chair, the moment my orgasm done, the feel of his body left me. I felt empty without him.
While sitting on the plane, stretched out, lying reclined in the comfortable chair in first class, I was hoping to avoid going to sleep. But it was night during the flight and just before dawn in Ireland. I felt him pull me into the dream with his own sleepy arousal. On the plane, I knew he was real. I just hoped to find him once there. I tried to keep awake, not wanting to do something embarrassing on the plane. But the quiet hum of the engines and the warm, comfortable chair as well as my mystery man”s dream pulled my eyes closed …
… We met at the lake again. I knew he was near. I shucked my clothes and slipped into the glassy lake. The ice-cold water shocked my system, but I knew once he arrived, I would be heated. I heard the brush rustle and saw it part to reveal him. He stood before me in jeans and nothing else. His breath was coming in fast pants, as if he were already aroused. Looking down his chest to the tent in his clothes, he obviously was. With each step he took toward me, his body became clearer. The tufts of hair on his chest and belly, the silky hair on his corded arms, and the strength of his legs encased in tight denim I was already familiar with. But as he came closer, I saw the bridge of his nose. Each step revealed more and more of his face. He had high cheekbones and curly hair. His eyebrows were thick and dark, his lips full and sensuous. But I couldn”t see his eyes, not yet. I trudged out of the water, intent on seeing his eyes. When I reached the shore, he joined me at the water”s edge. Then I glimpsed in his eyes for the first time. Blue, like the brightest, deepest sapphires; so different from my mossy green eyes. It was home, I saw straight into him and somehow I knew he was seeing all of me finally. He reached out and trailed a finger along my chest, chasing a bead of water through the hair down to my belly. I was so hard. He grasped my erection and started moving on me. I didn”t want him to do this. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him to me. I kissed him. When our mouths parted, he looked in my eyes and spoke to me. It was in a language I didn”t understand. I tried to tell him I didn”t know, but he just shook his head and kissed me again. I loved the feel of his tongue brushing against mine. Then his arms wrapped around me and drew me to him. My cold, wet chest nestled into the warm, dry curls of his. My loose erection rubbed against the soft ridges of his denim clad one. I moved my hands down to his jeans, but he stopped me. Then he pushed away from me and shook his head. I didn”t understand why he pushed me away. He looked down at me, at my aroused state and gulped hard before looking in my eyes again. I saw hunger and passion fire in the sparkling blue. But he didn”t move towards me. He shook his head and told me in English, thick with a rich brogue, that we needed to stop this foolish dreaming. He told me he was tired of dreams that stayed unfulfilled. I watched a tear roll down his cheek. I wanted to go to him, tell him I was coming, that I was looking for him. But I never got the chance …
… I felt someone shake my arm. I woke to see a flight attendant tell me it was time to land. I sat up and wiped a tear off my cheek. I was still aroused, but it was a good feeling. I knew that soon I would find him. Whoever he was. After the plane landed, I had a feeling I wouldn”t be going back to America. I went through customs and got a car. I drove towards Galway, to the South actually. I drove to a small inn in the town closest to the castle. On my drive, I watched the rolling, emerald hills, dotted with sheep or rock walls, a few crops and cottages as well as a couple of forested areas. The beauty transfixed me. It was foggy and rainy and I had never seen anything so wonderful. I checked into the little inn, set my stuff down and then walked into the pub connected to it for some lunch. I had a bookmaker”s sandwich. Grilled roast beef and tomatoes. It was delicious. I also had my first experience with an actual Guinness. I sat back and took in the wonders. There were a couple of elderly men playing chess and having a yarn about some game they had played when younger. There was a lively lass who served the food and drinks. When the people heard me talk, they pegged me for the Yank I was and started to talk to me. They asked what I was doing in Ireland and I explained about the castle up the road. There were a few disgusted comments and the people turned from me. The waitress leaned down and explained that Michael had been working on it and was hoping to get a grant to take care of the old castle. I felt really bad, but I understood why the government sold the land to me. I wasn”t looking for help; I could do all the renovations with my own money, pouring much needed cash into the local economy. I just hoped I could make peace with this Michael.
Sensing my welcome was waning; I left and went upstairs to my room. A few hours later, after calling the government contact I had and explained that I had arrived and was going over the property, I asked about this Michael and his claim on the land. Apparently he was a young man (it made me laugh, only being twenty-three myself) who had grown up in the area and had started to clear the land around the castle, wanting to renovate the castle grounds, restoring the gardens. The idea had merit; I had only thought of the building, I hadn”t thought about the grounds. I bought the surrounding land so I could have the lake. Maybe we could work something out.
The time difference with New York had me contemplating the bed when a knock called me to the door. The innkeeper was there. He told me that Michael had found out about my presence and was heading over to have words with me. He told me “the lad has a fine temper.” Apparently his back was up and wanted to have it out with me. Fine, I would confront him, tell him that I owned the land and the castle and then propose a partnership with him. This was just the setback I didn”t need on my quest to find my mystery man.
Deciding it was best to meet him on neutral ground; I headed back down into the pub. But I didn”t make it past the front desk when the front door opened. A tall, big man walked in. He had a hat on his head to shield him from the rain. He turned and placed his raincoat and hat on a peg then turned to me. I couldn”t have been more surprised. It was my dream man. My breath left me. All I could do was stare. He looked in my eyes and he stopped too. He recognized me. I started to grin. Here he was. I was so happy to see him. Then someone from the bar called out and told Michael to leave the Yank alone. Oh God! His name was Michael; the same Michael who was pissed at me for buying the castle. Oh man!
His smile slowly disappeared as the realization dawned. His voice was thick with a delicious brogue. “You! You are the Yank who bought my castle?”
“Look, I did by the castle. But I need to talk to you about it.”
“What, that you and your Yank money can come in and push me out?”
“Please, let me explain. Give me five minutes. Privately. Please?”
He nodded and we walked into the barman”s cozy behind the bar in the pub. I sat in a padded, faded, velvet chair and he in another. The pub owner came in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He eyed us wearily and then left, shutting the door behind him. I looked at him, taking his measure, enjoying being within touching distance of him. I started to remember some of the delicious things we did to each other.
“Your five minutes is wasting.”
I shook myself and I felt myself blush. “I”m sorry. My name is Patrick Jamison. I have to ask you a personal question.”
He nodded at me. So I swallowed hard and spoke. “Do you have a scar, about three inches long over your left knee?”
I watched him swallow, shock taking over his features. But he did nod. “How did you know about the scar?”
“I”ve seen it. In my dreams.”
I watched Michael swallow. Then he stood and paced the two or three steps he could in the small room. I sat back and watched him move. For such a large, bulky man, he moved with a sleek grace. I don”t think I could ever get tired of looking at him. His legs were bunching with muscle. He was so tense. He looked as if he could jump through the roof. He was the epitome of caged energy. Then he stopped and looked at me.
“So it was all real. You had the dreams too.” It wasn”t a question but I nodded. “The lake, the woods, all of it real?”
“Yes.”
“Did you dream this morning? I saw your eyes for the first time this morning?”
“Yes. I was on the plane. You said something to me I don”t understand.” I repeated the phrase to him. He just blushed and looked away. “Michael, what did it mean?”
“It”s Gaelic. I was telling you that you are my heart, my love.”
I stood and walked to him. I moved in to kiss him but he pulled back. I was confused. He looked in my eyes and for once the belligerence was gone. Instead he looked sad.
“Patrick, I”m engaged to be married.”
Well that stopped me cold. I felt lost. I had given up my job and my home to come to him. I was at a loss as to what to do. I just looked at him for a minute. He looked truly miserable. I just walked past him and out the door. I headed up the stairs to my room and started to pack my bags. I had no reason to stay in Ireland now. I heard a knock on my door. It was Michael. I walked up and opened the door. He looked miserable and guilty. I felt bad for him, but not bad enough. He saw that I was packing. He stopped what he was about to say and looked me in the eyes. There were so many questions, but I couldn”t answer them. He told me that I should stay, at least for the night. I nodded, knowing I was too tired to drive back to Dublin that night. I shut the door to any more questions and moved my bag off the bed. I sat down and started to tug off my boots. I stood and shucked my jeans and sweater and shirt and crawled under the blankets. I turned off the lights and stared out the window at the moon, willing myself to sleep and this time not to dream. Eventually, after a couple of hours, I felt my eyes drift …
“Thank you!” His father appreciated the advice originating from another source. “Now I wish I had brought my teenage daughter. She is remarkably positive about the idea of gay sex. I don’t mean to be alarmist, but you ought to know that other families settle along the lakeside during the day that this cove is visible to. You’d best be careful as some might take offense at what went on here.” I thought that the understatement of the year. It was the last thing Bob wanted to hear, but he was polite about it and they waved to us as we departed back down the trail with the horses.
When we came upon an open clearing with tall grass, we lounged around for a half an hour and ate a small snack while the horses grazed their fill. Bob ruminated about the afternoon and the remainder of our sojourn. “Guys, it looks as though when we go back to the lake, we’ll have to wear swim trucks.” His face turned sour and he scowled. “Jesus those damn things are like wearing socks and underwear in the shower.”
We pitched our tents in our shady private camping spot. Bob rattled cooking utensils as the sun started to set while the boys dragged large plastic barrels out of the station wagon to insure the horses had easy access to water. When all was ready except to light the fire and cook the meal, Bob started unfastening the snaps of his shirt, the thick bed of brown soft chest hair billowing out as he gazed at us with a knowing smile. When his shirt was off and he fumbled with the strap of his belt he started speaking softly. “When your Uncle Blonde decides it is time to relax, he likes me to be naked, sex or no sex. The rest of y’all can do as you please.” There was no argument from the rest of us. My nephews were stripped bare before Bob. Jeb’s gender prong stood at full mast in seconds.
His older brother took the opportunity to demean the younger. “You horny little prick. You didn’t get enough this afternoon?’
Bob interceded. “Leave the kid alone. Christ, don’t you remember what it was like at his age? Even in college I had to walk the halls from one class to another holding books in front of me. Just a little outdoor breeze could make my dick blow up like a balloon.”
It was a moment of aesthetic artistry when Bob intently cooked our meal, his hairy naked body crouched over the blazing fire. The moment was not even lost on my nephews. They stared as the light of the campfire flames flickered against his swarthy rippling muscles. When food was shoveled out on to camping pans, my nephews had seemingly inhaled their portions even before mine was served on a plate. They had to avail themselves with junk food to satisfy their appetites that night. When we finished eating, we sat around the campfire stark naked and laughing as we reminisced about the adventures of the afternoon. “You sure seemed ready to take meat up the heinie when you got a look at my ass and cock, Todd. How come you turned so horny that way?” My older nephew on his fifth beer was prepared to make a confession.
He turned to his brother. “Do you remember Ramona?” Now he addressed the rest of us. “She was an old flame of mine from undergraduate days. I could never forget that the best sex we ever had was when she borrowed a 9″ strap on from a friend, slicked it up good, and fucked me up the ass with it. When I then fucked her the usual way, I came like I never had before. I swear I thought I was going to flood her with a gallon of cum. She had to talk me into it at first. She agreed to let me fuck her up the ass 5 times in the next month, or something like that.” He turned to his brother again. “Her sweet ass is even tighter than yours.” Jeb responded by tossing his briefs in Todd’s face. We ignored the gesture.
I did not want Todd to be distracted from the topic and asked, “if the sex was that good, didn’t she fuck you that way again?”
“I guess I did not want her to think that maybe I am gay, or something. Anyway, the issue never came up again because she didn’t like it. Something about how the base pushed up too hard against her clit, or something.” He paused for a minute before carrying on, just staring into the flames. “As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t forget how good it felt to have that toy pumping away inside of my ass. I tried to explain it away that I was stoned silly at the time. I might have forgotten about it, except one day some friends of mine in the dorm were looking at porn pics on one of their computers. Some gay porn came up and they laughed and jeered, but it was the first time I had seen images of gays doing it, I guess. All the old feelings came back except now I started to fantasize about one of them fucking me with the real thing. I think deep down, I knew one day it would really happen.”
“And today you selected the best candidate to be your first. I can tell I didn’t disappoint you.” Bob preened, but as he thought it over, he hadn’t meant to gloat. Fearing he may have offended his new initiate, he drew his awesomely toned limbs and sat next to Todd, running his strong left hand and arm over the shoulders of the vaguely wistful young man. “Don’t worry about it so much, friend. Before long, you’ll be happy and glad things turned out the way they did. Anyone gives you any guff about it, fuck ‘em.” He smiled that infectious broad grin at me again. “Hell, your Uncle Blonde here knows that it ain’t so hard to be real discreet about these things. He knows that I can be real discreet, but still get my jollies.”
We slept naked in our sleeping bags that night and the remaining two nights. On more than one occasion Bob and I heard grunts, groans, and slurping noises from the tent just a few yards from our own. “Oh, to be that young and horny, again.” He was horny enough to offer me the privilege of feasting on his magnificent musky meat on at least 3 occasions on this excursion. In one session, my two naked boner leaking nephews observed every slurp and lick with rapt attention until I had secured every drop of his tensely festered emission. It was supposed to be a lesson to the neophytes in hypothetically “masterful” technique, including the requisite tongue bath of the pouch of balls and how to accommodate a plunging cock into the throat during a face fuck. In fact, most all the time we spent together in camp we were naked. We dressed to ride the two horses on the trails (while my birthday-suited nephews usually stayed behind). Even then, we found a spacious clearing away from “the beaten path” to exercise the horses, always unimpeded by other campers. The sun being high in the sky, Bob thought the circumstance warranted risking removing his clothes before riding. If only I were capable of developing my own film, or that I owned a digital camera. The most picturesque moment of my life was to watch this Adonis-like cowboy, only adorned in cowboy boots and stetson hat, trotting and galloping the horses in sweeping big sky country: a true American centaur. I would have expended three rolls of film. At least one of my photos would have won the gay art awards this year.
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I knew our last night alone would be the most sentimental for me. I had no idea when next I would meet with my naked trophy. I clung to my hairy hunk in near desperation and intimate neediness to soak in the satin warmth exuded by his elegant nudity. He softly recounted the hit or miss attempts to experience erotic peaks with other men after last we parted. “I still had so much to learn, Blonde. I thought I was so smart and tough, but found out how unsatisfying it could be with assholes who really didn’t give a fuck. Even though I know I didn’t have any right to be, I was mad at you for the longest time for leaving me to my own devices.” I commiserated by cuddling and kissing, inviting his own tongue to prod nearly into my throat. I gently caressed his swollen proud pillar, my exploring fingers applying just enough pressure over its hot silky elasticity to retain arousal . I ached for its first time union with the hopeful hospitality of my malleable manhole. In my wildest imagination, I can not perceive that any drug addict on withdrawal required a fix more than I craved being the object of my sensual companion’s aggressive lust. Instinctively and far beyond the limits of self control, I adjusted my torso and limbs under and about him in lewd displays of yearning receptivity. My spreading legs waved about to locate my lascivious open ass in various positions for his choosing. The end of my own bouncing dripping cock was visibly soaking with excitement.
His expression of almost fierce puzzlement melted to a sly smile. “Blonde, you horny devil, if you want me to fuck you, just ask, Buddy.” He was the one this time who had the presence of mind to reach for the lube as I would have been happy to have his thick plunger invade my unprepared tail tract dry. His trembling terrible tool twitched and glistened in the dim lamplight as I freely spread the slick on its scalding surface while he rested back on his haunches. While I still grasped his sex in my fingers, he suddenly lunged and embraced me, passionately smothering my neck and shoulders in heavy kisses. I thrilled to his hot breath hitting my ear as he loudly whispered, “you may be the man about town who has taken many a dude’s cock, but I am going to fuck you like you have never been fucked before. Get ready, you little light-haired horn dog, because I am going to fuck and ream the stuffings out of you.” He impatiently wrestled me so that he had me on my side and lifting my leg he entered me, my normally resisting muscled ring only too willing to surrender and grip the forceful flesh that thrust its breach with such powerful intention. There wasn’t a second of pause, but only a quickly deepening pumping of propelling man meat. The lusting linings of my greedily grasping and stretching vessel welcomed the invading turmoil. My bowels flinched and flexed, involuntarily prompted to draw the torrid and tumultuous tube steak back to them to grip and feed on the delicious heat and throbbing supple flesh. It was a moment to be grateful to live such a life. His hairy, searing, and wildly undulating torso embraced me. His frantically pumping sex organ impaled me. His fulsome fuzzy man tuft slammed into my sensitive ass cheeks and his insistent tongue nearly forced its way into my throat. I was the victim; ecstatic to be naked, helpless, vulnerable, and physically restrained by the rapacious and primaly savage urges of a testosterone crazed powerhouse of male strength and passion.
To my great surprise, he suddenly lay on his back so that I had to seat myself over him to retain his external organ inside of me. I started to bounce on it to retain the sense of pumping friction. “That’s right, you tight assed little fuck. Let’s see how well you can ride a mean bucking stallion with this horse prick plowing away in your tight man twat.” With that, his strong tense hips started bucking with abandon. I had to raise and lower my seat, up and down, at a terrific pace to keep up synchronously with my partner’s swift and hard thrusting pelvis. When we had our rhythm, Bob breathily but noisily expressed his joy. “Yeeee haaaa!!! Ride it like that you crazy cowboy. Come down on my hard cock just like that. . . It feels sssoooooooooo ggooood!!” He raised himself on his elbows so that I could bend forward some to kiss again. This allowed him better leverage to pummel forward strokes with even greater impact. I raised my ass so that it remained in the air just stationary, requiring Bob to do everything to maintain friction. I held on to his wide torso just below the arm pits on either side. Our lips and then tongues clashed in a comparatively slow exploration of oral sensuality. His left hand that had cupped my neck and the back of my head in our swooning kiss while he supported himself almost entirely on his right elbow, now shifted to the front, his fingers tracing my collar bone. Next they brushed my pectoral and pinched a nipple, his palm then moving down to explore my tummy and navel, the fingers lowering to run through the hairs of my blonde bush. When my cock jumped in elation to feel his touch along its shaft, he gripped it and administered firm strokes centering at the ridge on the underside of its head. The combination of exquisite friction by his own pumping firm sex against my delighted prostate and the enthralling manual attentions on my super sensitive and stimulated sex stick crossed my threshold for sensual enhancement in my loins. The hot convulsive spasms started and we did not find the first emitted streak of my climax until the next day. It was somewhere in the corner of the tent. It was precisely at that point that we heard the tent zipper open. The responsive clamp brought against Bob’s stroking meat in my ass by the internal mechanics of my orgasm forced him to pull his hand away and gain better support by leaning on his left elbow as well. He then forced two pounding thrusts to shove his meat in as deep as he could to squirt his own ejaculatory rounds of cum, reveling in the grasping expansions against his swollen flesh all the while. We gasped and groaned into the night air, lost in the euphoria of superlative pleasures to be gained by merging two unclothed bodies intent on blissful harmony.
“Wow, that must have been one hellacious fuck.” Jeb’s compliment and his brother’s presence were hardly welcome given the intimacy of the moment. Their flashlight shone in Bob’s eyes.
“Get the fuck OUT of HERE before I shove that thing up both your asses.” When they made a hasty retreat back to their own tent, Bob compelled me to collapse into his warm arms, oblivious to the aromatically pungent jism that I had streaked on his chest. “Come here, you!” It actually felt nice to have it slither between our warm bodies while it was still fresh and yet to turn sticky. Bob’s gorgeous dick was still in my ass and I could feel it softening but I was loathe to no longer possess it that way. I could feel that his cum was slipping the whole length of my hole and must be trickling out through my man pussy lips to his base, his nut sac, and parts of his thick tuft. He gave me a bear hug and kissed me once more. “What the fuck am I going to do about you. I can tell it is about to happen all over again. You’re going to leave just as I find out that you are about the best fuck a dude like me is ever going to scrounge up.” His coiling snake slipped out of my sumptuously slicked hole. “I suppose it is my own fault. I should have known, considering your cocksucking skills. If I had really tried, I would have seen to it that I had opportunities to fuck you despite the prying closet cases you brought with you.” I fell asleep in his arms as we wiped off bodily fluids from ourselves with paper towels.
It was a fitful sleep as we both tossed and turned through the mild evening, affectionately reaching out to grope and caress unconcealed body parts in slumber like daze. When we were both aroused to almost bursting loins, Bob fucked me doggy style in the manner of what I characterize as a “probing fuck”. He would shift my ass and waist about such that the emphasis of each forward stroke by his surging sausage would solidly impact in a different bit of surface within my pleasingly pummeled love tunnel. Concentrating, I focused on the unique and special sensation each thrust presented by the aggressively adoring living truncheon of flesh. Once again, my naked being was transported into a rapture of corporeal carnality, immersed in the incomparable pleasure as an object of service to an insatiable and fanatically sexual human stallion. Following a brief cuddle, we set out on the half hour walk to the showers. We were attired in only enough clothes to be presentable, we sauntered dreamily as the eastern horizon turned a dark pink in the first hint of dawn. The only people in the bath house, we listened to morning bird song as we both stepped about to share the same shower stall. We soaked and scrubbed each other clean under the cascading hot water, arousing our external organs to grip and pump each other to another heated and deeply spasmodic climax. We left the showers to politely greet arriving men and boys.
Driving back to the ranch later that morning, our conversation centered on our accounts of sexual escapades with both sexes. The youngest, Jeb, was like myself in encountering only fleeting experience with females. We coaxed a confession from him that his future prowess would focus on the pursuit of “hot studs”. Bob, after trial and error, has become convinced that the greatest number of hot men of like mind could be found in Denver. Every year he has resolved to vacation there to cruise the hot dudes with the biggest muscles and the longest dongs and tongues. Todd was wistful again. We assured him of our pledged discretion and suggested that maybe he investigate campus personals for “hung” married men “into hunk ass” who would eagerly engage in hot sex with him in context to only the epitome of discreet liaison. “Whatever you do, go for it, man.” Bob implored. “Shit, back east there are women who get into the three way scene. Maybe you can find a chick who wants her boyfriend to fuck you. The world is your oyster. Shuck it for what it ’s worth. In a sophisticated place like your campus town, there have got be tight lipped dudes who would kill to fuck your hot ass. It ’s got to be anything but like the yokel scenes your Uncle Blonde and I have to contend with.”
I had to fight back tears to speak my farewells to Bob in the presence of my Aunt and Uncle two days later. Most of the return excursion conversation consisted of the thousand question interview. My nephews wanted the detailed account of my sexual past. “When was the first time you . . . .?” “What and when was the longest cock you . . . .?” “Did anyone ever beat the shit out of you for coming on to them?” “When did you know you were gay?” “Do chicks also turn you on?” Our nights in the privacy of motel rooms were peppered with boisterous naked frolics. I mostly observed while my nephews hijinks would collide into grunting wrestling matches. The inevitable friction against exposed sensitive external organs was the foreplay that prompted certain arousal and sexual coupling of one kind or another. One night however, Jeb very capably rimmed my ass, sucked on my balls, and slurped on my cock as I face fucked him with some judicious restraint. All the while, his brother fucked him mercilessly at the other end.
True to my word, I have never breathed a word to anyone about my nephews and the ecstasies they experienced on our camping excursion, until now. It is doubtful that any of my readers will have ever been acquainted with them. Jeb has found a campus jock, secure in the closet, who has been reliably available as a fuck and suck buddy. Todd has engaged in only brief interludes with married men. I sense he still has trouble coming to terms with his deeply entrenched erotic sensibility. I hope that one day they will gleefully be open about their physical cravings for other men. In e-mail messages, Bob inquires about my nephews as well as my attending orifices. In response, I graphically recite my unrequited urges to embrace his colossal cock. Thinking about the myriad ways I could and have satisfied him, I hope my readers will appreciate that this voracious connoisseur of cock can and does feast, given the opportunity