Short Spurts

by Rob Rosen

  “Fuck yeah,” he sighed back.

  I pulled my fingers out. He spun around, sitting, legs wide, feet on the smooth wood, legs bent, cock jutting up. I did the same, a mirror image of him. Then I reached for the mic, smiling lewdly, and clipped it on his nipple. A tremble started from his chest and worked its way down to his legs, his cock bouncing when the tremor hit it. “Thought you’d like that,” I said, one hand reaching down to stroke his club of a prick, the other ramming two fingers up his ass.

  “You thought right,” he replied, reaching down to do the same for me, two fingers up my hole, a grip around my shaft, my body suddenly afire, bristling with energy, just as our mouths collided, joined, spit dripping off our chins, sweat cascading down our foreheads.

  Pumping away, we didn’t have long to wait, his prostate rock hard as I slammed into it, cock so thick and slippery I could barely hang on. Then we shot together as planned. His dick erupted, great gushes of hot come that shot up and out, dousing my chest and belly before dripping down, asshole clenched tight around my digits. Then me, cock exploding, one stream after the other, ropes of come that hit him like a rocket, the sound of it filling our ears, drowned out by our thunderous moans and groans, the rafters indeed shaking.

  “Fuck, that was hot,” he groaned, stroking the last vestiges of come out of my prick as he slid his fingers from my throbbing hole.

  “Emphasis on the hot,” I said, my own fingers gliding out, my mouth again meshed with his, a pool of sweat and come amassing around us. When his dick at last went limp, I added, “Now I see why you’re the pro.”

  He laughed, tickling my balls with his fingers. “Takes a lot of practice, Matt. Think you’re up for it?”

  Meaning, I fucked and sucked him on every lane late at night during the following week, all leading up to the big tournament. Practice, after all, makes perfect. And, damn, if he wasn’t fucking perfect.

  * * * *

  I watched from the sidelines that evening. If he was nervous, I couldn’t tell. That’s what made him a pro, I guessed. That and the fact that he bowled like a champ, strike after strike, the crowd going wild, me no exception. Pete, of course, won the tournament, everyone crowding around him when the trophies were presented.

  I went back to my booth to close out the register. I looked up, but he was lost in a sea of smiling faces. Sighing, I stared down lane six, a glorious image of his hairy ass filling my head. When I blinked, he was standing across from me, blue eyes twinkling, smile stretched wide.

  “Hope you’re packed,” he said, hand discretely over mine.

  “Packed?” I asked, confused. “For what?”

  The smile went even wider. “Dude, the top three go to Maui. All expenses paid.” He gripped my hand in his. “Two tickets, Matt. Like, duh.”

  The smile was infectious. “Hawaii, here we come,” I said, fist pumped at my side.

  “Emphasis on the come, Matt,” he whispered with a sly wink. “Emphasis on the come.”

  Open and Locked

  “Fuck,” Gus muttered, seconds after his car came to a skidding stop along the side of the deserted country road. The flat was unexpected, though the lack of a spare tire was not—after all, he couldn’t fit it and the two side tables he’d bought into the trunk at the same time. Then again, the antique shopping occurred a week prior, and the dusty tire now sat in his garage a good fifty miles away, back in the city. “Fuck,” he reiterated, kicking the flat with the now unmistakable hole in it. Little good that it did him.

  “Now what?” he asked himself, once he realized his cellphone had no reception out in the middle of nowhere. He glanced right, down the barren, tree-lined road. “Nothing,” he groaned. He looked left. “Damn it.” In truth, he hadn’t seen another car for a good half hour, and taking the scenic route home after the weekend getaway, obviously, wasn’t looking like such a great idea after all.

  And then he remembered it: the house a half a mile back, the one with the white picket fence and the yellow shutters and the wooden whirly-birds spinning on the pristine green lawn. Resigned to his fate, he kicked the tire again for good measure, then began the walk along the nearly silent road.

  “Well,” he said with a grin. “Nice day for it, anyway.” Indeed, the sky was a crystal-clear blue and a nice, warm breeze blew over him and rustled the trees that ran alongside the road. Gus breathed the clean, country air into his lungs and shifted the boner that was rapidly filling his shorts. He was alone, after all, out in the boonies, with nary a soul to see or hear him.

  Looking around, he slid the zipper to his shorts down. The white, cotton briefs bulged out of the hole. “Well, Mother Nature,” he yelled out, with his head held up. “Mind if I take my cock out?” He always was a bit of an exhibitionist, though he wondered if it counted if no one could actually see him. In any case, he reached inside, fiddled with his meat, and then pulled it out. Standing at attention, the full seven inches bounced in front of him while he walked, much like a divining rod—only, instead of water, it pointed, Gus hoped, to a spare tire. Or a working cellphone. Preferably not in the possession of a mass-murderer. Or any kind of murderer.

  The air felt great against his skin, especially as it rushed across the sensitive head of his now-dripping cock. He paused, turned back, and looked up and down the road again. Still nobody in sight. No cars. No people. Not even a cavorting deer.

  The button to his denim shorts came undone next and then the shorts slid down. He kicked them off. If a car was coming, he figured, he’d hear it and be able to get redressed before they were any the wiser. And then the briefs were down around his ankles and off. Gus squatted along the road, ran his hand across his cock head, and sucked the precome off his fingers. Pulling on his heavy balls, he stroked his fat cock and stared at a lone squirrel as it scampered into the forest before him. He spat down and wet his dick, then slapped it and watched it bounce. The sound pinged all around him, echoing off the nearby trees. He slapped it again. His cock stiffened, hard and dripping. The squirrel ignored him, clearly interested in other kinds of nuts.

  It was then he spotted the time on his watch. It was growing late, and a hard cock in his fist was great, but being naked and alone along a dark, deserted road wasn’t much of a comforting thought. So he got dressed and let his pecker hang out of the shorts, at least until he approached the house, which he reached a short while later.

  “Cute,” he commented as he drew near. “Rustic,” he added after he rang the bell. And then, “Fuck,” when no one answered. He tried again and then knocked loudly on the door. Still no answer. “Are you out, mass-murdering?” But then he heard the music, faint as it was, coming from around the side of the house. He walked over to investigate. The sound grew louder as he rounded the corner, past the whirly-birds and a few garden gnomes. “Well, someone’s obviously home,” he said with a smile, staring at the wooden fence before him. “Do mass murderers like kitschy lawn adornments?” He tended to doubt it.

  He walked up and was about to knock on the fence door when he spotted the man through the slats. The guy was lounging on a recliner by an emerald green pool, his feet bouncing along to the music, his fist pounding up and down on a thick, hard, upwardly curved cock. Gus sucked in his breath and withdrew his hand from the door. His own cock sprang to attention and was quickly, and once again, out of his shorts.

  “Must be all this fresh air; makes a guy horny as hell,” he whispered to himself as he matched the man, stroke for stroke. The stranger was fine, too. Tall, lean, sinewy, and hairy. Very hairy. From his trimmed chest, down his taut belly, further down to a nice mound of jet-black pubic hair and equally hairy, long, muscular legs.

  Gus pressed his face closer against the boards, wishing he could get his mouth on that big, old pole, when, ruefully, he stepped on a branch. Suddenly, the sound of the music was punctuated with a crack and a crunch. The guy released his cock and jumped up. “Hello?” he shouted. “Someone out there?”

  Gus stuffed his cock back in his shorts and qu
ickly retreated to the front of the house. Trying to catch his breath, he sat on the front stoop and waited for the inevitable. And then, sure enough, the man appeared from around the corner, wrapped in nothing but a towel. A quizzical look spread across the handsome face when he spotted Gus.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, tightening the grip around the towel.

  If only you knew, Gus thought, but said, instead, “Oh, I, um, got a flat a mile or so up the road and don’t have a spare tire. I, uh, tried the front door and nobody answered. I was about to give up and return to my car.”

  “Sorry,” the guy said. “I was out back with the music on. Guess I didn’t hear you.” He moved in closer. “Name’s Walt, by the way.” A big mitt of a hand let go of the towel and reached out for a shake.

  “Gus,” Gus said, reaching his own hand out. It was all he could do not to pull the towel off and shake something else. “And sorry to disturb you.”

  “Hey, no problem. Don’t get a lot of company around these parts. Nice to see another living creature that doesn’t scamper about on four legs.” He let loose with a big, toothy smile that filled his handsome face and caused the skin to crinkle around his big, brown eyes. Gus nearly melted at the sight of him. “Anyway, there’s a tire shop not too far from here that I can take you to. I’ll drive you to your car after that, and we can get you back on your way, to, um…to…”

  “The city. I live in the city. Though I think I’ve found a new appreciation for the country.” He almost choked on his words, a red flush rising up his neck. “I mean, it’s really beautiful out here.” With or without the mass-murdering. Preferably the latter.

  Walt smiled, yet again. “Yep. That it is. Beautiful. Quiet. Peaceful. Not another soul for miles, though. Gets sorta lonely. Didn’t really consider that when I moved out here. Still, there’s something to be said for solitude. Easier to free your mind.”

  “And your clothes.” Gus said it before he could stop himself. “I mean, um, well, yeah, you know.” He hoped the blush wasn’t too obvious as he pointed toward the skimpy towel.

  Fortunately, Walt didn’t seem shaken by the comment. In fact, if it was possible, the grin widened even further, and, Gus could’ve sworn, the bulge beneath said towel shifted just a little. “Yeah, that’s sort of the reason I moved out here in the first place. Hard to be a nudist in the city.”

  “Nudist, huh? No, I, um, see your point.”

  “Ever try it?” Walt asked. “Nudism, I mean.”

  Gus laughed. “Well, I was naked this morning. In the shower. Doesn’t exactly count, though, does it?”

  “Not exactly, no.” Walt paused and locked eyes on him. The quizzical look reappeared, with something else behind it, something searching. “You should try it; it’s good for the spirit.”

  “Naked?” Gus asked. “Here, you mean?”

  “Naked,” Walt responded. “Here. Why not? Nothing I haven’t seen before. I got the same parts as you, right?” And with that, said parts were revealed. The towel, in a flash, was down on the ground, and Gus was face to, well, face with a flaccid, hooded cock.

  “Except you got a bit more skin than me in certain parts.”

  Walt looked down and pulled on his foreskin. “Oh, this?”

  “And you got a hell of a lot more hair.” The blush returned.

  “Oh, this?” Walt repeated, rubbing his hand across his toned, hairy pecs and down his washboard, hairy abs. “You’re not so hairy?”

  “Nope,” Gus replied, tentatively lifting his shirt up and over his head. “See. Just a bit around the nips and, um, down to my, um…” He pointed to his love trail and then to his crotch.

  “Yeah, I see,” Walt said, and it was then that Gus recognized the look on Walt’s adorable face. It wasn’t curiosity so much as lust. He’d seen that look before. More than likely, it was on his own face that very moment.

  Gus stood up and, for the second time that day, unbuttoned his shorts and shimmied out of them. The underwear quickly followed. Then he stood there in nothing but his socks and shoes, gleefully smiling over at Walt. “Yep. It is, as you said, sort of freeing. Weird, but freeing. What if someone drives by and sees us, though?”

  “Not likely. But if you want, we can go to the backyard. Unless you need to get back to your car right away, I mean.” The toothy grin returned, followed by a sly, lascivious wink.

  “It can wait, I guess. Don’t suppose there are any car-stealing bears around these parts, are there?”

  “Only one bear around here,” Walt said with a laugh as he again ran his hand around his hairy torso. “And I already have a car.” And with that, he turned and bade his guest to follow.

  Gus trailed close behind, his eyes glued to the most perfect, round, hairy, hard ass he’d ever seen—hairy from cheek to cheek, with a mound of dense hair just above.

  They went around the corner and into the backyard. The gate slammed shut behind them. Walt turned and faced his newfound friend. “Care for a dip in the…” He stopped and stared downward, at the hard cock pointing his way. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh,” Gus said with a laugh. “Care for a dip?”

  Walt didn’t need to be asked twice. Sinking to his knees, he grabbed Gus’s cock in both his hands and kissed the tip, licking the precome off before popping the wide head inside his mouth. Gus moaned appreciatively and coaxed the rest of his hard meat in and down Walt’s throat, until all seven inches were pumping that beautiful, stubbled face of his.

  He then stared down and watched as Walt’s dick grew, inch by inch, the loose foreskin stretching, becoming taut, before finally revealing a pink, glistening head. “Can two ante into this game?” he finally asked.

  Walt looked up, popped the cock out of his mouth, licked the shaft and then the balls before taking a whiff of Gus’s sweaty crotch, and replied, “Sure. Game’s much more fun that way.”

  Gus sank to his knees and felt the warm, soft grass beneath them. He looked deep into Walt’s soulful, brown eyes and said, “Definitely more fun,” before planting a tender kiss on his full lips.

  “Mmm,” Walt practically purred, returning the kiss with a probing, slick tongue that swirled around Gus’s and sucked him in even further. The two grasped and groped, stroked and caressed, as they fell to the ground. The kiss grew more urgent, more needing. A tongue found a neck, a shoulder, an armpit, a nipple. One hand spread across a smooth chest, the other atop a hairy one. Two bodies intertwined as they rolled around the warm ground. Soft moans pierced the silence that surrounded them. The eyes stayed open and locked, staring forward as the mouths slurped and pressed harder with even more insistence.

  “Nice,” Gus said when they’d at last come up for air.

  “Ditto,” Walt said, running his hands through Gus’s hair, down his cheeks, and across his smooth chest.

  “See, no hair there,” Gus informed.

  “I got enough for the both of us.”

  Gus reached out and ran his hand down the hairy chest, down the equally hairy stomach, and through the even hairier black bush. “Yep,” he agreed. “Just enough. Though I haven’t seen it all, yet.” A smirk appeared on his face.

  “No?” The smirk was mirrored.

  Gus reached further down, tickling the sensitive area between balls and thigh, his fingers landing between the two cheeks. “Haven’t seen here yet.”

  “Oh. You want to see my hairy asshole?”

  Like music to his ears. “Please,” Gus rasped, thinking that, if this guy was indeed a murderer, there were worse ways to go.

  Walt stood up and gently pushed his smooth friend down flat on the ground before setting one foot on either side of his supine body. “Here it comes,” he said, inching forward, until Gus could look up and see that big, thick rod of Walt’s hovering over his head, pointing skyward, while the big, heavy balls hung down, low and weighty. Angels, he thought, weren’t this heavenly looking.

  “I’m ready for it,” came Gus’s reply with a leer and a sigh.

  Walt moved his feet
further out on either side of the lying man’s head, and then squatted down so his ass was a mere few inches from Gus’s face.

  “Spread ‘em,” Gus commanded, and Walt obeyed. Reaching back, he took the hairy cheeks in his hands and spread them apart, revealing the sweet center.

  “What’s it look like?” Walt asked, swirling his finger around the hole.

  “Hairy. Pink. Puckered. Heaven.”

  “Heaven, huh?” He squatted even lower. “What’s it taste like?”

  Gus reached up and slapped each of the perfect ass cheeks, spreading them even further apart before sticking his nose in between and taking in the wonderfully musky scent. He kissed the pink, soft skin, licking the asshole like a lollipop, up and around and then zooming into the center. “Yep, heaven,” he confirmed in between licks.

  Walt sat completely down on Gus’s face, grinding his ass into the mouth, until Gus was making out with it, licking it, sucking it, biting it, before finally sliding his tongue deep inside the gloriously wet hole.

  “Balls next, please,” Gus said in between eager slurps.

  Walt rose up an inch and rubbed his hairy, heavy balls across the waiting mouth. Meanwhile, Gus’s index finger found the drenched asshole and slid it inside as he sucked on one and then the other ball, pulling down on them with his mouth as he fingered his newfound friend.

  “Dick next, please.”

  Walt reached down and pushed on his massive prick, rubbing it against Gus’s forehead, slapping it against his face, and then, finally, teasingly, sliding it in the waiting mouth, bit by bit, slowly, then all the way to the hilt, to the very back of Gus’s capable throat.

  A second finger joined the first and worked their way inside the hard, hairy ass, feeling the silky, muscled interior of Walt’s tight tush. The cock stiffened, surprisingly grew even fatter inside Gus’s mouth. Then the fingers and the prick found their rhythm, both pumping in unison, like the two men were one machine, working together toward a common goal—and that goal was fast coming, literally.