Pump It, Hard

Did you ever notice how, as some guys approach the failure point when they are working out, the sounds they make are identical to the grunts, groans and huffing that hang over the bed. At times in the gym my head has snapped around to check what was really going on. The other interesting thing that happens at times, to me at least, is what I refer to as workout erection. I'm sure there is a plain and simple physiological explanation, most of the time. But, sometimes, I'm not sure if it's that or the view of other hard bodies under minimal cover that is the cause. Doubts arise when, after noticing a fat dick straining inside a pair of sweat shorts, the same guy shows up again and still hasn't bothered to put on a jock strap. You can't tell me he doesn't know what's happening. And, when he puts his cock on display every time, it seems to me to be a blatant act just begging for someone's comment or maybe more.

Terry was that way. He had a set routine. Worked out almost exclusively with dumbbells. Once in a while he spent some time on a machine or two. But mainly, for the hour he was present, he was doing bicep curls, lateral flys and such. By the time he was through with his warm up exercises and the first two or three sets of arm and shoulder reps he was pumped and plumped. Almost as if he wanted to be sure you noticed his next group of moved were presses and flys done flat on his back from one of the benches. There he lay grimacing, his cock straining the cotton jersey of his shorts. Depending on the cut of the legs you could get an eyeful doing squats in front of him. A more modest guy would have kept his legs together. Actually, a more modest guy would have been wearing a jock and keeping his legs together. At least that's the way I figured it.

Terry knew damn well that guys collected nearby to view his display. At times it was almost like a pack in heat moving cautiously around, first one and then another stepping in close, constrained only by the propriety of being in a public place. Evan, a quiet basically shy blond whom I had spent one night with, would look over at me and shake his head in disbelief. Some of the others pretended their presence was pure accident, never looking any the other of us in the eye, sneaking peeks at Terry. There was one healthy specimen that, until I started noticing him sniffing around Terry's crotch, I'd classified as just a typical narcissistic heterosexual gym rat. Finding he kept getting drawn to the bench area when Terry was putting on his show intrigued me.

Terry was too obvious. Evan was just too reticent to express himself which turned me off after that first time. Bob was a challenge. I've always enjoyed a challenge. Bob never indicated an awareness of me or any of the other Terryfiles. If I wasn't such an inveterate observer I might not have caught his act. The problem I had to work on was how to approach him, how to find out if he was just in the closet or was in denial. My guess was that this guy had feelings he didn't, or couldn't, acknowledge. If he hadn't been such a appealing package I don't know if I'd have felt like trying to open whatever doors he had locked. But, he was.

Bob was nearly six feet eight with everything in proportion. Well, everything I could see was. A full head of nearly shimmery raven hair capped his head. His face was a jumble of chiseled plains, almost harsh, brought to life by his eyes and a pair of expressive black brows. The eyes were blue. It was so deep a color that, until you studied him, you thought they were black. The total had a Native American look. Particularly as you never saw any indication of facial hair. No late evening stubble. His ears were nearly perfect ovals with small lobs. Wisps of his black locks kept falling over the top of his ears. He was constantly brushing the wayward hairs behind his ears and then rubbing the back of his neck.

Long corded arms with well defined biceps hung from shoulders with massive deltoids and traps. Those were shoulders that just set the mode for the rest of his torso. A damn lip smacking set of pecs presented his nipples which were large enough they always showed under any cover, when he wore one. Quite frequently Bob worked out bare chested. When he did you noticed how dark his aureole were and how the nubs in the middle always appeared as if they'd just been tweaked, swollen and hard sticking straight out nearly a quarter inch.

Because his upper body was so ripped you didn't notice his abs were not quite as fully defined. His waist was slim, his hips just as compact. A faint trickle of dark hairs started just inches over his navel and flowed down to disappear inside his shorts. The ass -- again, like what mystery was hidden in his crotch -- was hard to judge unless you kept your eyes open. When he bent over the fabric of his shorts sometimes pulled tight, depending on what he was wearing that evening. Then you saw two firm, round globes; the preverbal bubble butt. Legs? They were a match for his upper torso but with a light covering of hair. Strong and thick thighs and bulging calves were tied together with every muscle stretching the skin tight.

Yet, the overall appearance was not of some muscle bound show off. The totality was like a tall lean but powerful feline. He even moved with the grace of a cat. Is it any wonder that I decided to pursue him? My first moves were to take the time to identify his routines and work out interests. After a few days I modified my use of the gym to fit and bring the two of us into proximity frequently. Away from Terry, where Bob refused to acknowledge anyone, he was gregarious and even helpful. Particularly so when I complemented him and asked his advice on building up my own shoulder mass. He gave no indication he recognized me from when we had both been admiring, or drooling over, Terry.

Within a few days Bob and I were working out together every other evening. He was a hard task master. I'd spot him, assisting when he started trembling or needed that last push. He did the same for me, but with more vocal urging to continue, pump one more, take it up one more notch. We talked, about almost everything, during breaks between sets. The one topic Bob just let fall was any attempt on my part to explore his home life. Did he have a wife. No. Or, a girl friend. No. I actually couched that last question with the 'significant other' euphemism. Whether he understood the wider potential offered when asked that way I couldn't tell.

There were a couple of times when I was helping Bob when my hands lingered too long or I got too close behind him. Once, inadvertently I think, I pressed against his back with my pelvis instead of my thigh. He gave me a semi quizzical look each time but made no comment. Other than those brief slips, I was a perfect gentleman. In the shower I found the answer to what Bob had in his shorts. Not that I stood around watching his crotch every minute. Even with the chances to view him a natural it was impossible to draw a conclusion about Bob's equipment. Hell, you know, some just stiffen up without much growth while other cocks really explode into long fat shlongs -- it's impossible to tell what's going to happen.

One night we got into a discussion on the best way to relax. It came out that Bob loved getting away from the daily grind going fishing. I hadn't done that since back in high school with dad. It was easy to lie about my interest though. Ended up we planned a trip for the next weekend.

Sitting under a tall spreading tree, unknown species -- I forgot all that after I got kicked out of the Boy Scouts for making a pass at my troop leader -- we threw our lines in the lake and settled back. Beer in the cooler beside us we talked quietly watching the floats bobbing on the water. Later we settled for the night in his pup tent a sputtering kerosene lamp hanging from the front pole. We hadn't caught a thing. Neither of us seemed to care and pigged out on the fried chicken I'd brought in my cooler. Finished, nothing but empty beer cans and chicken bones left, Bob stretched out on his sleeping bag and stripped down to his boxers. It was a hot muggy night. I turned out the lantern and disrobed. We lay facing each other exchanging pleasantries about enjoying the trip, the lack of a catch, hope that tomorrow would bring fish.

When I shifted and my hand fell landing on his he withdrew his carefully, not jerking it away just drawing back from the contact. Our conversation wound down. Bob yawned. He told me he was glad I'd come with him.

"You've become a real friend, Jon."

"My real friends usually call me JJ," I told him.

He chuckled. It was a low rumbling deep in his throat. "O.K., JJ. And, don't laugh. My close friends -- what few there are -- call me Bobby."

Without thinking I reached out, touching his face. "I'd like to be a close friend, Bobby."

He stared at me. Taking my hand he laid it back on the floor. "Not that close. I'm straight, JJ. Don't ruin it." With that the rolled onto his other side presenting me with his broad back.

I couldn't sleep, kept tossing and turning. Every instance when we'd touched, however fleeting, keep replaying in my mind. I didn't want to ruin it, as he'd said. But, there he lay. The moon lifted into the sky and its soft glow crept in the open end of the tent. I could hear the slow steady flow of air in and out. Ever so often there was a quick short grunt when he shifted, adjusting a leg or an arm. In that faint light Bob, Bobby, looked so vulnerable, so tempting, so peaceful. I snuggled into his back. Nothing changed. Risking it all, hoping he was a very sound sleeper, I laid a hand on his leg. Leaning forward I lightly kissed and licked his side as I stroked his leg. His slumber didn't break. My hand moved to the front of his leg and then up to touch him through the cotton of his briefs.

With my own cock hard and pressing on his buttocks through my shorts I slowly brought him to a full erection. I continued worshipping his flank with my tongue. Initially I stroked his now fully aroused cock through the cotton. As I got bolder, I reached though the fly and freed it, watching it appear in the moonlight. I froze as he gave another grunt and rolled onto his back. He settled back down still breathing slow and steady. Bob's cock was a beauty, just like the rest of him. It filled my hand and stood a neatly clipped approximately seven inches. Picking up where I had stopped I stroked, licking my lips and then reached down gently flicking the near nipple. He let out a faint moan. If he was faking I couldn't tell.

Working that cock it grew stiffer in my hand and then a dribble ran out from the tip wetting my fingers. I moved so that I could lean farther. I had shifted my rear back and was stroking my own cock as I played with him. When I spotted the next drop appearing at the slit in the end of his prick I reached and licked it off. Another soft moan. This time his hips gave a slight pump. I ran my tongue one more time over that temptation and laid back, pumping both of us.

"Uhhh. No fair, JJ." Bobby's hand brushed down my stomach and took over from mine. We kept up the mutual action until he let out another moan. This one wasn't faint and it was long. He moved my hand out of the way and took over stroking his own cock. I kept my hand on his leg. He shifted and it fell off.

We were now masturbating side by side our eyes moving from face to dick to face. He was pumping hard, giving a jerky moan that turned into a whine as his hand pounded faster. I was keeping pace, fairly quiet except for the squishing and smacking of my hand working my dripping dick. A wild look flashed on his face.

"Gonna cum. Awww, shit. I'm gonna cum," he grunted.

Watching him squirt all over those boxers triggered me. With a low sigh my hand flayed wildly and cum blasted, getting slung all over, splattering on his boxers, my chest, my briefs, the sleeping bag.

Bobby looked at me as he scrambled to clean up with his tee shirt, fell back, let out a long gasp of air and then turned again presenting me his broad back. I'd started to reach out. Drew my hand back. Finally fell asleep on my side facing away from him. No other words were said. In the morning it was like it hadn't happened.

I guess it would have just stayed that way. It didn't because I was hooked on the guy. Almost a week later, after three of our regular -- and uneventful -- workouts at the gym, we'd planned a late dinner. Maybe it was because we were going to the local fried chicken palace, who knows. For whatever reason when I slid in his car beside Bobby I laid my hand on his thigh and gave him a squeeze and a big smile.

"JJ, damn it. You have got to learn to keep your fucking hands to yourself. I told you. I'm straight. What you do and with who is your business. But . . . buddy, you are not getting to me again, ever. It's not my thing. You got that?"

"Sure, Bobby. Sorry. I understand. It's just, let's be honest, I like touching you."

"Tough. Don't. Any way. What happened at the lake is not happening again. Never. Ever."

"Even in the gym? Touching I mean."

"That's different and you know it. No touching that other way, ass hole."

"No way, dick head?"

Bobby broke out laughing. "You know what the fuck I mean. Don't go over the limit, JJ. And don't you ever call me dick head again. I'll crown you with a thirty pound dumbbell, you shit."

"Got ya. We still getting some chicken? You rather be alone?"

He reached over and slammed a fist into my upper arm, pulling back just before it hit. "I'm getting some fucking fried chicken. Whether you're along or not is up to you."

Settled with the box of chicken, containers of mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and honey on the coffee table in front of us we tore into it. I was famished. Had forgotten to eat or even drink a quick protein shake at lunch. From what I knew of him Bobby can always eat anything and not screw up his body's balance.

Somehow, maybe because of the brief exchange outside the gym, we finally talked about that night at the lake. Bobby was adamant that I better forget it. It wasn't happening again. Kept reminding me, and himself I thought, that he was straight, that I was the one that was gay. He told me he liked me, as friend. He wanted to keep me as a friend. But. That's when I blew up.

"Damn it, Bobby. What's your fucking problem. It wasn't anything. Teenagers do it. Mutual masturbating isn't going to turn you into a queer." My voice got harsh.

He stared at me for a moment a shocked look on his face. "Cool down, JJ. Cool down. Sure teenagers do it. But not guys our ages. Unless they are gay, or bi." He paused, his head cocked, thinking. "Or . . . they are just fucking strange. Can't we just forget it?"

"Shit, Bobby, that's all I want. I don't want to loose your friendship over ten minutes of jacking off."

Bobby chuckled. "More like half and hour."

I stared at him. I wasn't aware of doing it but I must have somehow changed how I was looking at him. Whether or not he'd done it on purpose, that comment gave me hope.

"Don't do that, JJ. Not again. It's not happening again."

I felt like old Will wrote, methinks he doth protest too much. I reached across the gap between us on the sofa. Again I laid my hand on his thigh. "I want to suck you, Bobby." I shocked myself. Where the hell did that come from? It was true, but I hadn't planned on being that bold. Not now. But it was going to be now. I'd already spoken.

"JJ, I'm straight."

"So, I've sucked straight guys before." I watched the confusion race across his face. I gave him a smile and wrinkled my nose. "Relax, Bobby boy, you'll love it." I was thinking to myself 'and you know damn well you want it. Quit fighting it.' Without waiting I reached and tugged his belt loose. He didn't move. I was ready to parry a few punches and depart from his apartment and his life. But, Bobby didn't strike out. He sat, his eyes wide open.

"Don't." He whispered.

"Can't not." I said almost a softly as I opened his fly and unsnapped his boxers.

Regardless of what he had been saying his cock was saying the opposite. It was already hard and I had a real struggle to get it pulled out. Half way through the struggle Bobby inched his hips up and shoved both pants and boxers to his knees. I devoured his cock sucking and letting it slide between my lips. I could feel his hand on my shoulder. As I bobbed it moved to massage my neck, then crept atop my head.

"Awww, shit. That's great. Suck it, JJ," he hissed.

"Muff gooog."

I worked those cumbersome clothes down to his ankles. His legs spread wide as I played with his balls and sucked cock. It was sweet and juicy, pre cum leaking. I got comfortable. Used one hand to hold his prick steady, reaching down ever so often to finger his balls. The other worked my own dick out of confinement and stroked along. I was having fun. When I figured he was ready for it I opened wide and sucked, taking that shaft all the way, letting his cock head pop into my throat. Bobby froze. When I swallowed and sucked hard he gasped and his body began to shake.

"Christ. Oh, shit. Holy fucking shit."

"Arrrrg" I couldn't be more lucid with all seven inches crammed into me.

As I lifted up Bobby's hand quit resting gently and pushed down. He was getting into it. I scarfed him down again and started fucking that dick with my mouth. Kept it up for a good five minutes. By then his hips and that hand were humping and pushing with me. Once in a while a thrust caught me before I expected it and I choked, gagging. Bobby would attempt to hold still, his body quivering. I just let it go, backed off, grabbed a quick breath and dove in again. When he pushed me away I sat up, stroking my cock, and watched him jerk off. He was panting, working it hard. It wasn't long and that flailing tool was spitting cum all over us. He stripped off his shirt and started cleaning up. I was stroking fast leaning back huffing.

"Hold it, JJ." He was looking right at me with a shy grin. Reaching out he lifted me up onto the couch. Then he kicked out of his clothes and shifted around. Leaning in he lowered his head. I would say Bobby never sucked a cock before. He was tentative, exploring what he found with both his hand and his tongue. He held my cock firmly and licked across the head and then around it. He stuck out his tongue and used his hand to tap my dick on it. When he closed his lips I groaned letting him know he was doing great. He gave it a suck. Let it pop from between his lips.

"You don't have to do this, Bobby."

"I know that. You've never forced me into anything, JJ. I . . . want to know . . . we're friends . . . friends help friends . . . I . . . " Any further words were muffled as he crammed my dick in his mouth. He'd paid attention. Somehow he gulped, sucked and almost got it all. He gagged, sputtered. "Sorry." he muttered lifting up.

"Takes practice. Don't try so hard. You are doing great. Mmmmmm. Fuck. Yes!!" He'd swallowed almost every inch and was twisting his head, sucking. I let out another moan. "Oh, shit! Eat it Bobby. Go, baby!"

He was a fucking fast learner, slurping up and down, sucking, licking, worrying that dick. I couldn't hold still. Air blasted from between my lips. My hands were roaming all over him no longer worrying about his reactions. I tensed, lifting my pelvis to his face. One hand rubbed and then squeezed a firm round buttock. It wiggled. He sucked and bobbed. I grunted and pumped and continued feeling him up. It couldn't last. I wanted it to. Oh, man did I want it to last, go on all fucking night. I think I even said as much in the throws of passion that were gripping me. This virgin was giving his all and I was taking it. When the trembling started, pressure mounting, a hot burning ready to flame inside me, I shoved at him.

"I'm . . . Gonna . . . Cum . . . FUCK! Gonna . . . Cum!!"

I couldn't get him to stop. I got loose just as I blasted. He caught it full in the face. Laid back with cum dripping off his nose. He was laughing and, I couldn't believe it, licking his lips.

"Damn, JJ, you needed that, didn't you?" He looked right at me an winked.

"For a straight guy you suck a mean cock, you dip shit. Wipe the cum off your face. You look . . . "

"Just helping a friend out. It's not going to be like this all the time. I'm . . . well, damn it, I'm straight. Just didn't seem right though. Sure didn't know what to expect. You shoot a mean load, JJ." While he was talking he used his shirt to wipe his face. Handing it to me he laughed again. "You're a mess too."

Feeling comfortable and a little bolder, him sitting there nude, me with my pants wide open, I reached out for his face. He let my hand brush his cheek and then placed it back on my leg.

"Don't get ideas, JJ. Like I said. Just helping a friend out. We're not starting something. Just finishing. You sucked me. I sucked you. No big thing, right." His face was still smiling, a twinkle lit his eyes.

I kept my thoughts to myself. "Thanks. I understand. No big thing. Just friends." I stuck out my hand. We shook on it, whatever it was.

"It's not happening again, JJ. That's you're thing. Just don't push it and everything will be O.K. I like you."

He pulled on his boxers. I helped him clean up the beer cans and leftovers. Dressed in fresh pants and a pull over he drove me back to the gym. He got out and walked with me to my car. Standing there I felt like I was being dropped off after a date. I wanted to kiss him, at least give him a hug. We talked briefly about our upcoming workout schedule. Turning to open my door, I felt a hand on my neck. Bobby hugged me to him. I nearly lost it.

"See ya, JJ." His voice was husky. He gave a swat to my rear and walked off.

I sat there, long after he had driven off. What a mess of mixed signals I had been given in the past three hours. I was pretty sure that whatever happened next wasn't going to be totally under my control. Bobby was saying one thing with his vocal cords but something else with his actions. Then, maybe he was what he claimed and what had happened . . . bull shit! Utter bull shit! Bobby was gay, just fighting it.

I let things simmer for two weeks. Two weeks of hell. Being with him in the gym. Worse, in the showers and snapping towels in the locker room, just buddies. We never talked about IT. Well, that's not exactly true. I dropped hints, made a few smarmy asides about Terry. Bobby ignored my comments or pretended he hadn't heard me. Not even a 'shut up' glare.

What I didn't know, until later, was how IT was praying on him. Fucker told me he spent almost every night sprawled on that sofa, stripped, playing with himself, going over and over everything that had happened. Usually fell asleep there, seldom went to bed. He was thinking, long and hard about everything.

The ringing kept up. I swiped at the alarm. Shit. It whines like a electronic banshee. It doesn't ring. Phone. I rolled out of bed and searched on the desk, knocking things around. I'm not neat. Found the phone.

"Who the hell," I grunted.

"Hey, JJ, it's a beautiful Saturday morning. Move your ass. We're going on a picnic, shit for brains." I was instantly awake. It was Bobby. Bobby being bright and bushy tailed. Bobby making a date -- well sort off.

Bobby had barged in while I was still getting ready. He was wearing sandals, shorts and a tank top. Told me to dress comfortable. Vetoed the socks. Scoffed at the white painter pant cut offs. Eventually I got hauled out to the car wearing an outfit that closely matched his.

He had family with acreage just a few hours from town. The sun was shining. The sky was bright blue with a few racing puffy cotton ball clouds. We found a place, down a fence line, over a low rise. Tall trees with wide spreading limbs shading an expanse of wild grasses beside a idyllic bubbling brook. A fucking story book setting. Turned out we didn't find it, Bobby told me he use to sneak away to that spot when he was a kid. It was his secret place. His 'ber rabbit laughing place'. And he took me there, shared it with me.

There was every damn thing packed in the hamper. He spread a giant plaid throw and laid out the feast. The sun was now almost directly overhead. The trees and the tinkling water made it cool where we were but you could look up the hill behind us and see the heat waves shimmering. We ate leisurely. Not much talking, just me making compliments, Bobby chattering about a movie he saw Friday. By the time he handed me a giant slice of chocolate cake with thick chocolate frosting I was already stuffed. But I made room. If we had been on a slope down to the water I would have just rolled away. So much for watching calories.

I sprawled leaning against the trunk of the nearest tree, my stomach rumbling. Bobby was packing up the hamper. I'd almost drifted off when he stretched out with his head on my thigh. Automatic reaction on my part. I ruffled his hair leaving my fingers gently massaging his scalp.

"You know why we're here." Bobby's inflection wasn't a question but a statement.

"No. You tell me, dip shit."

"Later. Fucker. I'm full and sleepy as hell."

"Uh hu" Soft breezes danced in the shade under the trees, cooling. I let out a yawn-burp. Bobby snuggled in. His head shifted from my thigh to rest with an ear right in the middle of my lap. An arm snaked around my waist with that hand reaching under my tank top to rest on bare flesh.

"Mmmm. Feels good." I must be dreaming. Continuing to fondle his hair I let my other hand rest on his chest, stroking it, lightly. "Mmmmm. You feel good." I was dreaming.

The thing was, when I woke up -- he was still there with that hand now caught in the waistband of my shorts, snoring, not snorting. A pleasant, contented sound that send icy chills up my spine. His breath was warm. My stomach was warm. So was the rest of me down there. Extremely warm. And hard. It was still. No leaves rustling. I could feel a bead of sweat sneaking down from under my arm. I wasn't sure if it was the external or internal temperature affecting me.

Bobby stirred. "You awake, JJ?"

"Just barely." I spread my arms and stretched. "It's a beautiful place. Thanks for bringing me."

His hand tugged loose and reached up, spayed wide on my back. "Figured it out, buddy?"

Our eyes dug in. I nodded, disbelieving but wanting so to believe. "You've made a decision. Insane." Suddenly I was filled with apprehension. "But, Bobby, it's all wrong. You're straight. I shouldn't have . . . "

He sat up and laid a hand across my mouth. I fought the urge to open my mouth and lick. "You didn't do anything I didn't let happen. JJ, I know now. I was hiding even from myself. I'm as gay as you are . . . maybe more. Never let myself go with anyone. Then you came along. It has to happen."

"What?"

"This!" His face moved, zeroing in. Our lips met. Arms tangling. Damn was he letting go now. Teeth grinding together. Tongue, his, mine, touching. He fell back, taking me with him. He was nuzzling my ear. "Make love to me, JJ. All of it, JJ. Here. Now." He was busy rolling my shirt up my chest, then reached and undid the button on my shorts.

The pile of clothes was small. Neither of us had worn underwear. Me, hoping. Him, ready. Two shirts, two shorts, two sandals, two sloppy worn out cross trainers. In the middle of that plaid stage two nude bodies, squirming, hands searching, finding. Little moans. Loud bursts of laughter. Whispered word, some loving, some sensual, some just downright raw and filthy.

"Take it slow, baby. Teach me." I shuddered when that endearment passed his lips. We crashed together again. This kiss was wild, wanton, filled with my desire and his need.

"We can't." I murmured.

"Check the hamper. You're out with a Boy Scout, JJ. Damn, you are so fucking good looking without your clothes on. Go ahead. Check."

I rolled away, reluctantly. He came prepared. Prepared for anything and everything. I rolled back. Now I was ready. I let out a chuckle. "Thank you, tall dark and sexy. You are a fucking fantastic guy. Looks. Gorgeous. And this. Pretty sure of yourself."

He grinned at me. "Nope. Pretty sure of you, you seductive shit. You knew what you were doing all along didn't you. Admit it, damn it." Reaching out he smashed us together again. It wasn't possible to respond. My mouth was busy. Very, very busy.

When I came up for air, what seemed like hours later, I told him. My hopes. My desires. How he started out being a challenge and ended up being so much more. I eyed him up and down, letting a finger follow that trail of black hairs, belly to pubs and up to smear the wetness atop his cock. "What now?"

"Everything, baby. Everything. I meant it. Teach me. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. As long as you want me."

"Silly fool. You don't . . . the first guy that strokes your dick, gives you a blow job." I tried to be calm and serious. With that body right there, that look, impossible.

"Come here." This time I locked my arms around him. The kiss started soft, gentle. The fire just blazed. He pulled me on top. Warm, wet, slick our bodies pressed together. Chests, legs, cocks rubbing, as the kiss build in intensity. He groaned and almost squeezed the air out of me. I pushed up with my arms, arching my back breaking his hold. "Lesson one." He nodded.

Gradually I worked down, kissing and licking, loving the fresh but lightly salty taste. He squirmed. I was up and down his neck, under one arm, the other, then on his nipples.

"Oh, God! Yes. Yes. Yes."

My travel continued, kissing and sucking his breastbone. I stuck my tongue in his navel, licked around it, nipped at those hairs. The path to his manhood, standing rampant. Licking along that trail I hunkered down between his legs, lifting one and then the other to tease, leaving saliva wetness on the inside of his thighs, his calves. Sucking in one ball and then the other set him off again. I was enjoying his enjoyment. So honest. So true.

That dick. Right in front of my face. Right in my face. Into my face. "Fuck! Oh, God! More." It tasted just as great as the last time. Better. Back to his balls. Lifting them I kissed that flat space. His legs spread. In, down. Both hands shoved under his butt. A slight lift. "Awwww. Ohhhhhh!" Tongue darting, touching in the line of hair that continued and circled that most private spot. Following that line. Slick, spit, rolling across his hole. A gasp. Licking it. Punching at it with the tip. "Shit! Ohhhh!! Shit!"

He was gasping and groaning as I continued. Back up. Down. Dick. Ass. Balls. Chest. Crushing him under me, tongue reaching for his tonsils. We rolled. Bobby was looking down at me.

"Lesson learned, JJ." He started. Fast fucking learner. Good pupil? Good teacher? Who give a shit. He had me squirming, pursing my lips and blowing hard. When he hit bottom, my bottom, he had me. Fucker went ape. Not just licking. He burrowed in, sucking, his tongue rough and wild. His head came up. I was propped on my elbows watching.

"So. This is eating ass." He grinned. "You, baby, have a sweet ass. A mother fucking sweet ass. Pardon me. I've got some unfinished business." His face was lost below my balls, pressed hard between my buttocks. His lips were locked down there. I swear that tongue penetrated. Opened me wide. It was impossible to keep quiet. I was crunching, shoving against him. Urging him on. Loving it. Stroking my cock. Lost in the feelings that shuddered through my body.

Crawling back over me he chuckled. "Never. No one could have ever told me. JJ, baby, I want to fuck you. Fuck that sweet ass. Eat my cum out of your gaping hole. Fuck you again." A look of doubt. A pause. "If . . . that is . . . you . . . ?"

"Don't need a lesson?"

"Can't screw that up." Another rumbling chuckle. "Actually, can . . . it's just animal instinct . . . if?"

"Bobby. Bobby. Bobby. Take me, lover. You're right. Make love to me." I pushed him off and lifted my ass placing my forearms behind my knees.

He fumbled with the condom. I gave directions. With a wet ass and an equally wet cock we joined. One massive grunt. One long hard shove. One loud happy "That's it! Fuck yes! That's it!" from me.

We just started. His cock rooting inside me. Out. Slamming in. Gently rocking, flesh smacking flesh. That cock, Bobby's cock, expanded. Filling me. "Oh, Shit. Shit. I'm cumming." He collapsed, body quaking, moaning. Inside I was holding tight, feeling his cock jerking as it spit. It stayed hard then slowly shrunk, falling free.

"Sorry. Aww. Fuck. JJ, I'm sorry."

Hugging him, soothing. Rubbing his back, kissing his eyes, nose, lips, all over his face. Telling him everything is O.K. It's flattering. He wanted me so much. Whispering, reminding him he had unfinished business. If he was still interested. He lifted up. Tears and a wicked smile.

Smearing the outpouring of the rubber. Anointing my ass. Dribbling it under my balls to run in that cleft. Rooting, licking, sucking it up. Cleaning me. Eating my ass. Swallowing his own cum. Grunt.

"Ahh. Uhh. Yes. Great." Attacking. I'm masturbating. Zoned. Balls tight.

"Dammmmmmmmn." Cum blasting. Falling on me, in his hair. Body jerking. Dick throbbing as it gushes.

He watched and then catching my fire, returned to rape my ass with his tongue as I tremble. Post climax shudders. Flashes darted into me from where his mouth was diligently sucking, slurping, sucking.

Snuggling. Heads cradled in each other's arms. Resting. Drifting. Moving close to feel the touch of body on body. The wind is back. Chilling as it floats over us. Sweat, spit, cum drying, cool. Dapple rays of the afternoon sun sneaking between the tossing green overhead.

We did continue. Together. That afternoon. That night. Sunday, all day, almost. "As long as you want me," Bobby had said. I still want him. We're still together. Not sure just who seduced who. Who gives a shit.