by Jake Rave
After a few more minutes of suck-lick-suck-lick, Bryan was finally primed for shooting his load, which he did as he always did, with a rather load moan, and his streams of jizz hitting the back of my throat with the force of a firehose.
I moved my mouth away and squeezed the last few drops from Bryan's cock, then stood up and kissed him; a puddle of his cum still resting in my mouth.
"There. Now we're even," I said.
Bryan slipped his shorts back on and we headed out of the bathroom. As we opened the door, someone else was entering the cafe just across the room. It was the truck driver we had passed earlier.
I pretended not to notice the truck driver as we walked past him, but I could feel his stare. Bryan and I sat back down at our booth just as the waitress came from the kitchen with our food.
"Here is your--" the waitress stopped in mid-sentence and looked at me funny. She cracked a half smile out of desperation and hurried over to seat the truck driver.
"Jeez, did you see the way she looked at us? I wonder if she heard us?" I asked Bryan.
"Um, I don't know about that, sweets, but..." Bryan pointed at his chin as if to hint something. I reached to my chin and felt a drop. It was a blob of cum.
"Bryan!" I muttered between my teeth. "How could you let me come out here like that?"
"I'm sorry!" he whispered. "I guess I didn't notice until it was too late." Bryan giggled at my humiliation. I flashed him an angry look and grabbed a napkin to wipe across my face in case there were any other cum spots.
The trucker sat two booths away and faced me. Great, I thought. Of all the seats in this joint you had to pick that one. The trucker looked to be in his late 30s. He had dark hair, and a scruffy overgrowth of whiskers. I suppose he was even kind of cute, but my cuteness-judging skills hadn't been used too much since I had hooked up with Bryan. I didn't like the way the trucker kept staring at me, so I looked down, trying my hardest to ignore him.
Knowing I couldn't say anything, I grabbed a pencil and one of the comment cards from the table, writing a note to Bryan that the trucker was behind him and staring at me. Bryan looked surprised that I had said that. He must not have recognized the trucker when he first came in. Not thinking, Bryan turned around and looked right at him looking at us. The guy didn't even try to hide the fact that he was staring. Bryan whipped back around, his eyes wide.
"Fuck, dude!" he whispered. I nodded at Bryan's exclamation. We both started eating quickly, keeping our heads down and not saying anything. I could still sense the creep watching us though. I slid over a bit, so Bryan's head blocked the sight of him.
We finished eating in just a few quick minutes, but, of course, the waitress had our check and was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, my bladder felt heavy and I knew I had to go. But to get to the bathroom again would require walking past the trucker. I debated holding it, but the pressure was too much.
"I gotta pee!" I whispered to Bryan, getting up and walking quickly to the bathroom. The trucker's gaze followed me as I walked by. I think he gave me a good look up and down. A cold shiver came over me.
I took care of business in the bathroom and felt much better. I was not looking forward to walking past that guy again, so I took my good sweet time washing my hands.
The door the bathroom suddenly swung open, causing me to jump. It was Bryan.
"Shit, Bryan! You scared the crap out of me!"
"Sorry, Sean." He rubbed my shoulder to calm me down. "I got the check. Let's go!"
We left the bathroom again, and the trucker was gone. Good, I thought. Bryan paid the waitress and we went out of the cafe.
The semi was parked not far from our car and I could hear something from the open window of the cab. Bryan noticed too and craned his neck to try and see what it was.
"He's jacking off in there!" Bryan said, a little too loudly. The door to the semi swung open, and there was the trucker, hard cock in hand, his pants at his ankles, looking right at us again.
"Hey boys," he said, giving his dick a few good tugs. His cock wasn't very big; his whole hand appeared to cover it. "You mind helping me out here?"
"Uh..." Bryan didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think.
"Aw, come on, you gave this to me, you could at least help me with it!" It was like the guy fell out of a bad gay porno movie.
"It looks like you're doing just fine yourself." I said.
"I could use one of your nice, young, soft assholes to stick it in," he offered.
"Oh, that's enough!" Bryan said, obviously disgusted.
"Thanks, but no thanks, dude." I said. Bryan and I hopped into the car and took off as fast as we could, leaving the frustrated trucker to beat off alone.
We sat silent for several minutes. I couldn't stop thinking about the guy pounding away at his little dick, beckoning to let him fuck us. It made me want to vomit.
"You know I'd never do it with anyone but you, right?" Bryan suddenly said.
"What?"
"I mean, that guy back there. He wanted us to. And, you have to admit he wasn't THAT ugly."
"I guess..." I said.
"But that doesn't matter to me. Because I only want to have sex with you. You know... It's like... I love you."
I couldn't believe it. A wave of emotions that I never felt before took over my body.
"Really?" I asked. "You... love me?"
"Yeah, " Bryan blushed a little.
"I love you too, Bry... You're everything I could have hoped for in a guy."
Bryan leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. We sat quietly again, letting the rather significant moment set in.
Bryan laughed. "Well... wasn't that a sappy Hallmark moment?"
I laughed too. Good old Bryan. Sappy as it was, I knew it was true. We were falling in love. And knowing that could only make the sex better.
ADVENTURES OF AN AMATEUR PORN PRODUCER - THE FIRST SHOOT
My hand was shaking and leaving a sweaty palm print on the camcorder as I slowly moved my thumb to the record button. I couldn't believe it was actually happening. A gorgeous, 21-year-old frat stud, naked and hard on my bed! My own erection had been filling my jeans for the better part of an hour in anticipation. I was suddenly wishing I had worn something less constricting.
I had first met Blake at the gym. Now, I certainly wasn't a jock by any stretch of the word. I simply liked staring at the hot guys, getting sweaty playing their sports and working out, then stripping down and showering off, their dicks happily bouncing around freely in the locker room.
I generally parked myself on an exercise bike in one corner of the main workout area. It was probably the least strenuous activity I could pick (especially as slow as I pedaled), but at least it looked like I was doing something while ogling the studs around me. Plus, the bikes were lined up in full view of the weight machines, where the manliest of men could often be seen.
There was one in particular who caught my eye. He always seemed to be there when I was, usually getting there before me and staying after I'd left. And the dedication was paying off. Even though the gym's rules required him to wear a shirt, I could tell this dude had a killer body. He usually wore tight-fitting muscle shirts which clung to his pecs like saran wrap, his nipples firm against the fabric. He had these great guns for arms: well defined biceps and a nice cut to his triceps too. And those veins that bulged down his forearm. The best part was when he'd lift up that muscle shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, revealing the most perfect washboard stomach. A hard six-pack like every Abercrombie model you've ever seen. Oh, and he was drop-dead cute, too. Beautiful green eyes, square jaw and an incredible smile. He was also usually wearing a white backwards baseball cap, Adidas soccer shorts, and a cord necklace with a little tooth or something around his neck. Basically, he was my ideal guy, and I seldom took my eyes off him, working hard to burn his image into my mind to satisfy my fantasies later.
While thoughts of this guy had gotten me through many horny evenings, I was realistic in thinking I didn'
t stand a chance of ever getting him in bed, much less even talking to him. So I just sat on my exercise bike, three times a week, and enjoyed the view. That is, until one chilly morning in January.
I arrived at the gym at my usual time, about 4 in the afternoon, right after my last class. I passed through the workout area on my way to the locker room and was thoroughly disappointed to see my stud boy was nowhere to be seen. I nearly did a 180 to go right back to my car, but for some reason I decided to stick around.
I rounded the corner to my usual row of lockers and was greeted by a pair of muscular buns pointed right at my face. A guy with an impressively hard ass was bent over, buck naked, pulling off his socks. I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes wide at the pleasantly surprising sight. He stood up and turned towards me, jumping a bit at the sight of me.
"Whoa! Sorry dude, didn't mean to moon ya." It was him, my regular workout eye candy, flashing me a smile. I had to remember to stop staring and close my mouth.
"That's OK, man. Didn't mean to startle you," I said, trying to compose myself by fumbling with my locker combination.
"Not a problem," he said, turning fully towards me, revealing a beautifully long, thick, flaccid cock below a bush of thick brown hair.
"I see you here a lot, don't I?" he asked. I was surprised he even noticed me.
"Yeah, I guess I'm a regular," I answered, and caught myself staring at his package and turned back toward my locker, which I still hadn't managed to open.
"Cool, man," he said. "I'm Blake, by the way," he said, thrusting out his hand for me to shake, as his large, low-hanging balls swung with the quick movement.
"I'm Derek," I said, as he grabbed my outstretched hand with a firm grip. "Nice to meet you." It was even better to be seeing him. Naked.
"So I'll see ya out there," Blake said. "Gotta shower, wash off some of the stench from work first, you know?" I so wanted to follow him in there, but I never showered at the gym. I was always afraid of showing off my own skinny-ass body, and I was nervous enough as it was at this particular moment, so I just nodded and turned back to working on my locker.
Blake emerged out of the locker room a few minutes after me. I had already found my regular perch at the exercise bikes, but I was just kind of sitting there, staring into space, my mind still racing from having met and seen Blake naked.
"Derek!" I almost didn't hear him calling for me in my daze. I snapped out of it and realized I hadn't even started pedaling.
"Hey man, would you mind spotting me?" Blake asked. How could I refuse a request like that?
Blake laid down on the workout bench, getting a grip on the bar above. I stood at his head, looking down at him. His nipples were as perky as ever though his red muscle shirt.
"I thought you usually used the weight machines?" I asked, stopping suddenly when I realized the question would give away the fact that I was watching him before.
"Yeah, but I figured it's time for a change, and if I can get a spotter..." he winked at me, seeming not to even notice the deeper levels of my question.
Blake lifted the bar up and lowered it to his chest with a grunt. There was more than 200 pounds on there, and I realized I wasn't going to be much help lifting that off him. He pushed the weights upward, his chest expanding with the thrust, a rush of air coming out of his mouth. He repeated it a few more times before I pretended to help him but the bar back in place.
Blake sat up, lifting up his shirt to wipe away the few beads of sweat that had already developed, exposing his abs which flexed with every movement.
"All right dude, how about you?" he asked. I nearly frowned as he dropped his shirt back into place to cover that lovely six-pack.
"Me?" I started to laugh. "Um, look at this," I said, pulling back my shirt sleeve to reveal my scrawny, muscle-less bicep.
"Aw, come on," he said, reaching out and grabbing my arm with a squeeze. I felt my cock twitch in my shorts with the touch of his hand to my body. "Looks like you've got a good body. A good metabolism, anyway. You just need to put some work into it." I could feel myself turning a bright shade of red as he prodded me with that gorgeous smile.
"All right," I said. I didn't need much convincing. I was willing to do just about anything this stud asked of me. "But not that much weight," I pointed to the multiple 45 pound plates lined up on the bar.
"Of course not!" Blake laughed at me and pulled them off without any effort. He put a 25 pound weight on either end and nodded at me to sit on the bench. I was a little embarrassed that he was only starting me out with that much, but I obeyed and got into position.
"Here we go," he said, helping me lift the bar up. Then he suddenly let go and the whole works dropped on top of me with a thump. I gasped for air as it weighed down on my chest.
"Dude!" Blake exclaimed, quickly pulling the bar off me with one hand. "You all right?"
"Yeah," I choked out an answer. "Guess I wasn't ready for you to let go," I lied. It was too much. I was such a wuss.
Blake flashed a sympathetic smile at me. "Sorry, man," he apologized. "I'll try to keep a better grip for ya."
We tried again, this time his hands guided the bar up and down with each rep. By the fifth one, I could tell he was doing most of the lifting work, but we went all the way to ten before stopping.
"See?" Yet another smile. "How does that feel?"
"Uh, good," I said, shaking out my arms and forcing a grin back at him. He slapped me on the back and began replacing the weights for himself. And thus began our friendship. I couldn't believe it, skinny-ass little old me being workout buddies with this incredible specimen of man. I pinched myself red making sure I wasn't dreaming.
Blake and I made training a regular thing, since we realized we were usually both at the gym at the same time anyway. I'd make a lame attempt to spot for him, and he'd encourage my development with exercises appropriately designed for weaklings. We got to talking, and I learned he was in his junior year studying sports medicine and living in a frat house. He used to play rugby and baseball until he blew out his knee a few years back, thus explaining his heavy emphasis on upper-body workouts. And, unfortunately, he had a girlfriend, but she went to school on the other end of the state. As for me, I told him I was a senior and a film student, minoring in web design, living off-campus with an old high school friend.
We had developed a good routine after a few weeks. Though once the workout was over, I'd usually bolt right away, making up some excuse that I had to get to work and would clean up and change at home. As much as I wanted to get naked with him in the showers, I was too afraid my cock would rise to the excitement and he'd be scared off by my horniness.
But then one day I found out I had no reason to be nervous.
We were in the locker room after our typical workout, both of us covered in sweat. Blake peeled off his shirt right away and stopped in front of a mirror, checking out his flexing bicep.
"What do you think?" he asked me.
"Looks good, bud," I said, stopping short of saying what I really wanted to. "Just wish I could look like that."
"Aw, you're doing great!" he said, grabbing me by the arm and forcing a flex. "See? Muscle! You're making progress!"
"Whatever!" I pulled my arm free and laughed. "It's nothing like your guns." His openness to talk about our bodies inspired me to take a chance. "I mean look at you. Damn perfect. You could be a fuckin' model!"
"Nah, I'm not that great." Blake's ears glowed red with embarrassment at my compliment.
"Fuck you!" I said. "You're hot and you know it!"
He turned and looked at me, his patented grin plastered on his face. "Well you know, I have always wanted to get some pictures taken." He paused. "You're good with a camera, aren't you?"
My mouth dropped open. Was he really asking me this?
"Uh, yeah, I am," I stammered, all the fantasies I'd ever had about him racing through my mind.
"Well, if it wouldn't be too weird, maybe you could take some of me. I mean, it might be easier t
o do it with somebody I'm comfortable around."
I chuckled to myself nervously. "Yeah. I mean, uh, we could, if you wanted."
We decided to meet at my place while my roommate was away, since the frat house was obviously out of the question for a photo shoot. Blake showed up dressed differently that I was used to seeing him: Tommy blue jeans, a tight-fitting white t-shirt with a plaid flannel shirt over the top. Very preppy. And very cute. He carried his baseball cap under his arm, his hair neatly styled and somewhat spiky. My cock was fully erect in my pants, but I had prepared to avoid embarrassment by wearing a loose shirt that hung down over my crotch.
"So, D, where do you want me?" he asked. Oh, if only he knew.
"I figured we could start in here," I said, pointing to the living room. I had set up a few lights and arranged the furniture to give him room to stand and pose. I took my place behind my camera as he stood in front of me, a little unsure of what to do.
"So what's first?" he asked. I suggested a few clothed shots and talked him into a few positions. With or without clothes, this boy was incredible. I had to quickly wipe drool from my lip a few times.
"Well, let's start losing some clothes, I guess," I suggested to him. Without a word, Blake took off the flannel shirt and threw it aside. I took a few more snapshots as he slowly pulled of the t-shirt, revealing his chiseled form. He ran his hand over his chest and stomach, flexing all of his muscles with a deep sigh. By this point, my dick was so hard, I feared my cover-up shirt might not be enough to hide my arousal.
"Pants?" he asked. I nodded and continued to snap away as he kicked off his shoes and slipped his jeans down to his ankles. I could see the scar on his left knee where he'd had his operation, but that image was quickly sidetracked by the sight of his white boxer shorts and the noticeable bulge under them. He wasn't even hard, as far as I could tell, his package was just that big naturally.
I had him work himself into a variety of flexing positions to show off that great build. His golden skin glistened naturally under the lights, every cut of his muscles clearly defined. As he turned for some back shots, I reached my hand down to my crotch and massaged my throbbing penis through my jeans.
