Gripping the edge of the old metal bathtub tightly, I locked my arms and started to push myself up, only moments later realising just how exhausted I was. My arms shook, but stayed locked, as I struggled to stand upright. My head, which had started to feel very light, flopped helplessly down, serving only to present me with a view of my stiff twitching cock, shining strangely in the firelight, as water from my torso flowed down along its length and streamed from the tip, splashing noisily into the bathwater. But I didn’t give up, and managed to lock my knees, then straighten my back a little – before the blood completely drained from my head, and I started to faint. I slumped heavily backwards, my bum just catching the back of the bath, as my locked legs struggled to support me, and my arms flailed wildly, knocking the empty kettle to the floor. A split-second later his arms were around me once again, holding me up, holding me close.
‘You’re gonna have to take it a little slower there, son,’ he laughed, sweeping me up in his arms, and carrying me to the bed he’d just been making. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for Mr Independent later on.’
My head was reeling, partly from nearly fainting moments earlier, but mostly from being held so tightly by him, my naked body crushed firmly against his. He laid my glistening form gently down on my side, with my back to the edge of the bed, and draped a thick towel across my torso.
‘Here you go; get yourself dried,’ he urged, ‘before you get cold. I need to empty that tub.’ And he turned to walk away.
‘Wait!’ I said quickly, my mind racing. He stopped in his tracks. For a long moment, he just stood there, his back to me.
‘Would you ... could you ... dry me?’ My voice descended to a whisper.
Still he stood there.
‘You’re right, I must rest,’ I added.
I heard his weight shift on his heels. What would he say?
‘It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you tonight,’ I said, heart racing madly. ‘I promise.’
Again, he shifted on his heels, then made my heart sink, as he started to walk away, but then skip a beat, as he stopped once more, clearly weighing up the possibilities.
Then next thing I knew he’d lifted the towel from my body, then after a tense moment, he started to rub my back. His hands pushed the towel smoothly and firmly, moving it in simple broad arcs, spiralling circles and soothing strokes, blending seamlessly between them, as he dried my upper back and shoulders. My body rocked naturally beneath him, as he pressed the coarse towelling firmly against my body. A shiver ran down my spine as the towel stroked my neck, firmly pressing along the back and the sides, then smoothly down my lower back and hip, and across the muscled globes of my bum, where the towel lingered, cupping and squeezing my rounded flesh until they were completely dry. I couldn’t stop myself from twisting and writhing against his hand, just the towelling separating his stroking, soothing fingers from my naked, quivering flesh.
He slid the towel along the back of my thighs, long undulating strokes caressing my skin, before pressed the towelling between them, easing my thighs a touch apart, allowing his hand to slide higher and higher, closer to my crotch. My thighs parted almost without thinking, allowing him more access. His hand reached the top, the towel drying the very tops of my inner thighs, the loose material glancing gently against my balls as he worked. Then he moved quickly downwards again, drying the backs of my knees, and sliding the towelling across my calves and ankles, brisk firm strokes until he reached my feet. He wrapped the towel around each in turn, and rubbed them firmly with both hands, making them warm as well as dry. Then he pushed the towelling between my toes, drying each of the gaps between them.
After placing my feet gently down, he moved back up the bed, to stand beside my torso. Neither of us spoke, but I knew it was time for me to turn onto my back. My heart raced ten-to-the-dozen as I readied myself. I shifted my weight, then slowly turned over. I felt a rush of excitement, and a touch of vulnerability, as my back finally settled on the mattress, and my head came to rest comfortably on the pillow. My naked body now lay completely exposed to his gaze. My eyes drifted down my body, to take in what his eyes undoubtedly were, my heaving chest, my trembling stomach, which disturbed the water pooled in my belly-button, and just a bit down from there, my cock, was sticking right up to attention, twitching almost uncontrollably as wicked thoughts flashed across my mind. A tiny drop of transparent fluid leaked from the tiny slit at the tip. I turned my head to look up into his face, his rugged handsome features more visible in this light. I caught him staring into space, looking anywhere but my cock. But his arousal was indisputable, as evidenced by his quickened breaths, and dry lips, which he fixed with a flash of his broad tongue.
He seemed dumbstruck for a moment, his eyes flickering wildly from the firelight, his mind racing surely. Then suddenly he snapped into action, reaching for a fresh towel at the foot of the bed, then after leaning in close, he started to dry my chest and shoulders.
Despite the air being filled with erotic tension, his hands moved just as firmly, just as steadily, in broad deliberate circles, sweeping the soft towelling across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He lingered at each nipple, circling around and around them, moving closer with each caress, until his fingers brushed against them, making them stand up for us both to see, and making my cock twitch in appreciation. Then he eased the towel down across my belly, which spasmed erratically in response, my cock just inches now from his swirling hand ... but he didn’t falter, didn’t get distracted.
He stiffened one of his fingers, then pressed gently through the towel, and started spiralling in towards my belly button, deliberately slowly, excruciatingly so, until he slipped it inside and he soaked up the water there. His fingertip pushed deep, making me writhe and buck helplessly beneath him. With it still inserted, he pressed delicately around the outside of the little hole, arousing me further, as the loose part of the towel brushed roughly against the shaft of my cock, firing off an jolt of erotic energy, making my balls tighten, and setting off a throbbing pulsing heat deep in my gut. The sensation, and the anticipation of him moving his skilled hands further down my body, was driving me mad, and making me moan out loud, and causing me to jerk my crotch upwards.
Then his finger slipped out, and he started zig-zagging the towel down my lower belly. I gasped, flicking my head to the side, when I noticed his jean-clad crotch closer than expected, a huge bulge trapped behind his trouser buttons. I couldn’t resist. I reached up with both hands, and started popping the buttons, one by one, as he slipped the towel along the soft flesh where my leg met my crotch, sliding down deep, then slowly back up, where he teased at the edge of my pubic area.
I popped the last button on his jeans, and quickly tugged down his underwear, to reveal a thick, delectable looking cock. I wasted no time, and gripping the opening in the jeans with both hands, I pulled his crotch towards me, and his cock slipped straight inside my mouth. I felt him tense and his hand falter for a moment, as I started sucking lovingly on the head of his cock, a thick bulbous plum with a soft velvety texture. I moaned as I flattened my tongue and licked all around it like a lollypop, tasting it, relishing it.
He dabbed at my pubic hair, soaking up the glistening beads of water entangled there, the edge of the towel still brushing my cock, making it throb and twitch even more, come starting to boil up deep inside me. Then the towel slipped lower, reaching the base of my cock, then cruelly, he sidestepped it, sliding straight down and along the top of my thigh, in a slow firm deliberate movement.
I pulled my mouth back and kissed and sucked the tip, lathering it with my saliva, making unashamedly disgusting noises with my lips and mouth. Then I flicked a stiffened tongue tip across the tiny slit, exquisite feather-light touches, which made him grunt and fuck his cock back inside my warm mouth. I accepted it willingly, and slid my lips up and down the shaft, perfectly meeting his thrusts.
The towel slipped down my calf, across my feet, then to the other calf, up which it proceeded to
slide slowly upwards.
I wrapped my fingers around the thick flesh of his cock, and wanked it into my welcoming mouth, my fist in perfect synch with my plunging lips. My tongue licked side to side along the base when it was buried deep inside my mouth, then I slurped wantonly on the soft delicate tip when at my lips again, making him grunt and curse almost constantly.
The towel moved up past my knee and up my other thigh, until it reached my crotch where for a moment, it teased around the base of my cock. Then finally, his fingers gripped my stiff flesh through the towel, twisting his hand around it.
I gasped around his cock, then quickened my mouth. It wouldn’t be long before I came, and I wanted us to come together. He jerked his hips harder in return, as overcome with arousal as I was, making me moan in appreciation around his cock.
Finally he threw the towel aside and wrapped his strong fingers around my cock. I gasped as flesh finally touched flesh, and my hips jerked off the bed to meet the long strokes of his fist, his tight grip catching my swollen head as I pulled it back again, causing an incessant throbbing heat to start surging up from my balls.
I blurred my fist on his shaft, and sucked ravenously at his head, as his hips bucked helplessly, as he started losing control. Any second now ... any second now! Then my mouth gaped wide in shock, allowing his cock to nudge at the back of my throat, after he’d jammed his lips down around my pulsing cock, taking it deep inside his hot, wet mouth.
I squeezed my lips tight around his cock and started jamming my mouth fast and hard along its length, my lips sucking and slurping noisily, saliva pooling and stringing from my lips as I consumed his hot flesh.
He matched me perfectly, quickly bobbing his head up and down on my cock, taking my twitching flesh deep in his mouth then back out again, lips gripping tightly, slicking it with his spit.
Our hands worked in unison, furiously wanking each other’s cock into our mouths, moaning our own pleasure around the pulsating cockheads. I could feel my come rising, shooting up from my balls. My actions stuttered, then the tip of my cock exploded. He locked his lips tight around my shaft as I ejaculated hard and fast into his waiting mouth. He moaned his appreciation as jet after jet hit the back of his throat. I moaned as I came, still able to lick hungrily at the cockhead buried in my mouth. This was too much for him too, and he jerked his hips one last time, then his cock stiffened, and unloaded into my mouth, copious amounts, further encouraged by my lips, sucking wantonly on his twitching flesh, milking from him as much as I could.
Another shot of spunk hit his licking tongue as he continued to fill my mouth. We were locked in a moment of pure ecstasy, cocks jerking and spurting together, mouths wanting and welcoming. Then suddenly … we had nothing left, and collapsed together on the bed, the quilts falling over us, where we lay huddled for some time, until we both drifted off to sleep.
Kit Bag
by J L Merrow
Black Muscle Vest and Grey Sweats were in again, which was kind of odd. Kit hadn't seen them in the gym on a Saturday night before. Saturday mornings were their thing, and Monday and Wednesday evenings, regular as clockwork. Always together, although he still couldn't figure out if they were together together.
He watched them walking over to the weights, slow and easy. They looked just perfect together; one fair, one dark, like those pop groups put together by a designer. Black Muscle Vest was the dark one, of course. Black was just the only colour for him to wear. He had close-cropped raven hair and soft brown skin Kit was just aching to touch. He knew exactly which bit too. And it wasn't the obvious one, oh, no. That man had just the most amazing trapezius muscles. Kit got all shivery just looking at those incredible bulges between neck and shoulder. He wanted to run his hands all over them, learn their contours by touch. Worship them.
Sometimes he almost thought Black Muscle Vest might go for that too, if he could only get him on his own. But Grey Sweats was always there too, beautiful but unapproachable, like a Norse God with his pale skin, blond hair and strong jaw. He had that whole don't-mess-with-me vibe that sent shivers down Kit's spine.
Kit watched them spot each other on the weights for a while, wishing he could get a closer look. Then he had a light-bulb moment – the elliptical up that end was looking like it really needed a wipe-down. Kit took a bucket and cloth and headed on up there.
Black Muscle Vest was lying on the bench, pressing some totally unfeasible weight. He was so pumped up from the workout Kit would have sworn those biceps were larger around than Kit's waist. There was a spreading damp patch across his vest, and perspiration stood out in beads on the visible portion of his chest. Kit would've given a kidney to be able to lick that off. A testicle, even. He swallowed, and tried to remember at least to pretend to be cleaning the elliptical.
Black Muscle Vest dropped the bar back on the supports with a muted clang, and sprang off the bench. ‘Let's see you beat that, you lightweight,’ he teased Grey Sweats.
‘Any time, wuss,’ Grey Sweats threw back at him, and he lay down on the bench over the damp outline Black Muscle Vest had left on the vinyl covering. Kit squirmed a little, thinking how much he'd have liked to do that. Lie down, and get himself all messy in Black Muscle Vest's sweat. Oh, Lord. Now he was going to have to go back and hide behind the desk so they couldn't see he'd got hard.
Damn. And pretty soon they'd be finishing up and heading for the showers. Kit gave a little sigh. What he wouldn't have given to go down there with them. He could have offered to scrub their backs, or give them a really thorough clean with his tongue … Sometimes, Kit wished he'd been born earlier. Say, 2,000 years, give or take. He could have been a Roman bath house slave. He'd have been a good slave. He'd have had a cute little tunic, with maybe some pretty braid – nothing too fancy, though, because, hello, slave – and it'd be just a little bit too short. Because the Romans may have invented scissors, socks and satire, but they'd never quite got around to boxer shorts, so every time Kit bent over everyone would get a peek at his sexy little butt.
He'd have waited for those hunky gladiators to come in from the training grounds, all sweaty and dirty, and he'd have poured oil over their hot bodies and massaged it in, soothing away the aches from those big, strong muscles. Then he'd have got his strigil (and Kit did actually have a strigil, he'd found one in a sex shop and it was his prized possession, although he wasn't quite sure right now where he'd put it) and scraped their skin clean, before leading them to the baths for a nice hot rinse.
After that he'd have asked breathily, ‘Is there anything else you require, Sir?’ And they'd have bent him over the massage bench and fucked him until he couldn't see straight.
Kit sighed, and thanked the Lord he was safe behind the desk. His gym-issue sweatpants were pretty smart for what they were, and they were tight enough to show off his ass nicely, but oh, man, they didn't hide a thing. They certainly didn't hide Kit's thing, sticking out proudly in front of him and pointing straight at Black Muscle Vest and Grey Sweats.
At least it was late enough there was no one else around. Just Kit and his two fantasies-made-flesh, and damn, thinking of their flesh was not going to help him regain control. Kit looked down at his desk, trying to remember how to read the papers spread across it. It was time to close up, actually, but Kit figured he could wait until Black Muscle Vest and Grey Sweats had finished. He'd have to wait, because going over there to tell them it was time to pack up would involve, well, going over there to tell them it was time to pack up, and embarrassment aside, he still wasn't certain they were gay. Not that he'd ever tried anything so dumb, but Kit figured approaching a couple of big, beefy straight guys with a hard-on for them would be one hell of a bad idea.
‘Good night, then,’ a low voice called, startling Kit and making him drop the pencil he'd been fiddling with.
‘Oh!’ he cried, looking straight up into Black Muscle Vest's deep brown eyes. ‘Yes! I mean, good night. Thank you.’ Kit wanted to curl up in embarrassment. They must think he was such a jerk.
Black Muscle Vest just smiled, and sauntered out through the turnstile, his arms held out from his body by the sheer volume of muscle, and man, wasn't that a sight? Grey Sweats was already gone, and Kit really needed to stop getting so distracted. He tidied up his desk, locked up the gym and headed down the stairs.
Black Muscle Vest was still in his sweaty gym kit, just leaning against the wall next to the changing room door. His arms were trying to fold but were too damn big to manage it. ‘Got a problem in the changing rooms,’ he said. ‘I think you'd better take a look.’
‘Is it the showers again? Darn it, we only had the plumber in last week! I am going to be so mad if those drains are clogged again already.’ Did it sound like he was babbling? Black Muscle Vest's face was like granite, if you could get granite in the exact shade of tan of a leather jacket Kit had used to own, which he doubted. Had they noticed Kit looking at them? Was he about to get into the worst trouble of his life? ‘Uh, maybe I should call someone? At reception, there'll be someone there still …’
Black Muscle Vest smiled. It was a friendly smile, Kit thought. Not a we're-going-to-give-you-such-a-kicking smile. He hoped. ‘Oh, I think you can handle it,’ Black Muscle Vest said slowly. ‘Unless you're telling me you're not man enough for the job?’
Kit felt a little shiver pass through him. ‘I'll, uh, I'll take a look, shall I?’
He walked into the changing rooms, Black Muscle Vest so close behind him Kit could feel the moist heat coming off that sweaty body in waves. They went past the banks of lockers, and when they rounded the corner there was Grey Sweats.
Only he wasn't wearing his grey sweats any longer. He wasn't wearing anything, unless you counted a slow smile and the biggest hard-on Kit had seen in an age. Kit watched, caught like a bug on a slide, as Grey Sweats stroked himself lazily and asked, ‘Think you can do anything about this?’
Boy Fun, Four Book Bundle Page 10
