As we entered the shop, the barber knowingly acknowledged Coach and finished with his client. After the last customer left, he stepped behind him to lock the door and turn the open sign to close. The barber and Coach both led me to a chair without saying a word. Coach told the barber to crop the sides as usual but leave a little length on top. He added, “Not so much that I can’t see him sweat.”
Little did he know that I was sweating like a pig under the rubberized cape that thankfully hid my full-blown boner. Coach told me, “You are to look into my eyes the entire time, boy.”
I did as he said, his eyes burning into my soul. My dick twitching and leaking under the cape as the barber shaved my head. The clippers found every erotic nerve on my head. Coach grabbed a handful of my crotch through the material as he looked at me, and I him. He started massaging roughly and continued staring right through me.
He said, “I know what you did last night, I’ll always know.” His gripped tightened catching my entire kit as he continued, “I’m gonna let it go this time, but from now on you are not to cum. Unless and until I say you can! You can beat off and milk that pretty boy dick of yours all you want, but you are not to cum, do you understand?”
“Yes,” was all the breath I could spare with the clippers buzzing my neck, his grip on my wet equipment and those eyes, those damn eyes looking into mine, piercing mine. I was starting to shake from the need, my hips bucking back and forth as much as I dared with the crop job going on my topside. Trying to get that gripping, fuck yeah, fist, oh my God! “Fuck yeah! Please, Daddy! Please let me!” I groaned out load and tears started involuntarily leaking from my eyes. “Fuck Sir Please!”
This went on only a few minutes before he said, “Okay boy, you can cum now.”
Just then he wrenched my dick hard, and the barber dug his hands into my freshly cropped hair. Coach reached up to squelch my moans, covering my mouth and forcing the seed right out of my dick like a fire hose. I came violently and as noisily as I could with his hands covering my mouth. “Fuck yeah! I need it, Sir! Please I … need to fuck your fist … Yeah holy fucking Christ!”
He never took his eyes off me, letting go of my mouth, I gasped for air. He let go of my kit, and I felt a tremendous release and relief. He stood back and gave me one of those half-smiles of his. The barber finished up in a few strokes and ripped the apron right off me. I was horrified to find in the crumpled folds of my jeans, a huge wet spot that would be impossible to hide. Nodding his head to follow him, he led me through the door. Outside on the way to the car, we passed a couple, and as they looked down at my crotch I was surprised that along with my shame and humiliation, there was a sense of pride in my stain.
As we drove back in silence, I kept wanting to say something, starting out, “Coach, I … oh never mind,” trying to get words out but failing at every attempt. Finally as we pulled into the parking lot, I blurted out, “Coach. I just wanted to say how much I appreciate, um, the extra attention.”
He stopped me before I could continue, and his voice lowered an octave, and quietly he told me, “Look kid, this isn’t about your dick! The sooner you learn the better! I’m gonna let you go this afternoon. You have a lot to think about, but I want you to show up here tomorrow at one and bring your suit – we’ll warm up in the pool.”
As I grabbed my bag from the backseat, he said, “Leave those there with my stuff. Now get along and get yourself some rest – you’ll need it.”
He got out of the car, and I felt privileged that he would do such a thing. Walking toward my car, my sanctuary, he called out, “Stop!” I turned to look at him palming and playing with some shiny object, making it dance along his fingers like a poker chip. He winked at me as he flipped it through the air. Instinctively, I reached up and caught it midair. Looking at this prize, I realized it wasn’t a coin at all but another silver chain link, a perfect partner to the one I found last night. Looking back up, he was already in his car and had started his engine. He didn’t even look at me as he drove away. I took my former treasure out of my pocket where it had been stashed and linked the two prizes together. I knew in my heart what they symbolized. I was bewitched, bothered and bewildered. This was how it was that I entered his world.
Hot Shot
By Sedonia Guillone
“Hey, Paul, will you photograph me?”
Paul froze. He clutched his towel and stopped in mid-rub of his wet hair. The room filled with silence, the only sound, the evening spring rain that pelted the living room window. Slowly, he lowered the towel, turned, and looked at Carlo.
Large brown eyes watched him from under a thick fringe of ebony lashes. Carlo had already toweled the rain off his own thick glossy hair and the raven-colored locks tumbled around his face, set off his high cheekbones. His smooth black goatee and mustache emphasized his full lips. Paul had spent countless moments fantasizing about kissing those lips.
Paul’s heart thumped. Carlo’s beauty always struck him, and in the whole three years of their friendship, he’d ached to capture that beauty on film. “Are you serious?”
What appeared fleeting shyness passed across Carlo’s face, quickly replaced by his usual coolness. “Yeah, man. I’m serious.”
Paul nodded. His heart pumped in rapid beats now, and his cock stirred and jumped to attention in his jeans. He set the towel aside and cleared his throat. “Okay, then. If you want me to.” He forced himself to act casual, far from the emotional chaos that churned his blood. In three years as housemates, Carlo had never expressed interest in getting photographed, not even in his soccer uniform or at his garage where he designed and built the hottest choppers in their part of California. “May I … uh … I mean, I’m just curious …”
Carlo’s soft laughter interrupted him. “I know. You can’t believe it.” He shrugged and looked down. “I don’t know, man. Just like this.”
Paul stared at him another moment. Carlo was holding something back. But hey, he wasn’t going to push. Carlo’s asking to be photographed was a fantasy come true, as rare as Halley’s comet.
“Well…” he gestured in the direction of his studio, really, a spare bedroom in the back of his house he’d converted into a studio. “This way.” He led Carlo there.
“Should I change or something?”
Paul turned around and looked at him. The rain had soaked Carlo’s white T-shirt and plastered it to his lean torso. Carlo’s skin, the color of light caramel, showed through the wet cotton as did the tiny peaks of his dark nipples, hardened, apparently, from the coolness of rain. Below that, he wore a baggy pair of jeans.
He cleared his throat again. Aside from nudity, Carlo couldn’t have looked sexier for the kind of photographs Paul envisioned. “No. You’re … perfect.”
A shudder of electricity seemed to pass between them. Carlo blinked. “Okay. Just tell me what to do.”
Take your clothes off and let me suck your cock. Paul didn’t say the words out loud. He wouldn’t dare. Carlo had never given him any indication that Paul’s wild attraction to him was mutual. If Carlo had wanted him, he would have included him in the string of lovers that had passed through their apartment over the last three years.
Paul swallowed hard. “Um, just … I don’t know. I guess …” His hands shook as he adjusted his camera, already set up on its tripod from a job the day before. “Start with something natural.” He indicated the sofa draped with sheets he’d set up for yesterday’s photo shoot for Gay Life Magazine. That had been a joy to shoot. Three gorgeous guys in underwear draped all over each other.
But today? Was better.
Carlo sat down on the sofa and leaned against the cushions, one muscled arm along the back of the sofa. He looked up from under his heavy lashes, lips pouting. “How’s this?”
Paul’s heart jumped. Electric heat zinged up his arms and down into his groin. Carlo looked incredible. In that pose, he was sexy, alluring and innocent all at once. “Perfect,” he said softly. He adjusted his camera, set the lighting in the room
and shot the picture.
“Should I do another pose?” Carlo sat up and raked a hand through his thick ebony hair. Inadvertently, he looked off to one side. Perfect. That pose, too, brought out Carlo’s irresistible combination of dark sensuality and innocence.
“Stay like that,” he ordered. Carlo obeyed, and he shot the picture.
Carlo turned and smiled. “This is kind of fun,” he said. He draped his arms over his thighs and leaned forward.
Paul shot another picture. “You seem to be a natural.”
“Nah,” Carlo lay back, one arm bent behind his head. His T-shirt rode up just enough to expose half of his tight abdomen. “You’re a good photographer, man.”
A shiver of lust tore through Paul. He forced his attention off the thin trail of ebony hair that ran down the center of Carlo’s stomach and onto shooting the picture. “Thanks,” he managed to say. Carlo had often praised his work, and he felt ridiculously pleased each time. He’d won several awards for his photos in the past three years and attributed his success to the fact that he worked so hard to please Carlo.
The thought made him ache to confess the raw emotions he felt for his housemate. He remained silent and kept snapping pictures. His tension melted away as he got into the flow of taking pictures. Carlo moved from one pose to the next, as if he’d been a model for years.
Suddenly, Carlo sat up and stripped off his T-shirt. He dropped it onto the floor and looked directly at the camera, his hands on his thighs.
Paul’s finger froze on the button. He cleared his throat. His heart took off like a bucking bronc, and his stomach fluttered just as it did when he had his first crush back in high school.
“Is this okay?” Carlo looked worried. “Should I put it back on?”
“No!”
Carlo grinned and chuckled. “Okay.” He lay against the cushions, both strong arms along the back of the sofa.
Paul stared through the eyepiece. He pretended to be adjusting the focus when he was really staring at Carlo’s rippling chest and abs, at the soft dark hair on his pecs funneling into a trail down his stomach and at the chocolate brown of his small hard nipples. Paul’s mouth watered, and now he had a major hard-on in his jeans. Who’d have thought that a pizza out with Carlo and running back home in the rain would end up like this? He shot the picture.
Carlo lifted one arm from the back of the sofa and ran his hand over his chest.
Paul licked his lips. Was the guy making fun of him, teasing him? His eyes widened as he looked through the viewer. He could swear there was a sizeable bulge in Carlo’s jeans, just behind the zipper. Was he hard?
Carlo slid his hand down his abdomen. Right down toward that delicious-looking bulge. He stared into the lens. Carlo’s dark brown eyes took on a velvety sheen. His lids grew heavy, and his full lips parted, as if he were breathing heavier.
Paul shot the picture. Damn, he couldn’t wait to develop that one.
“Hey Paul?”
The husky tone in Carlo’s voice made his heart thump. He swallowed hard and looked out from behind the camera. “Yeah?” He forced himself to look and sound calm. No easy task considering the raging boner he had. To him, Carlo was the hottest guy in the universe. Hotter than any movie star.
“How naked do I have to get before you take the bait?”
Paul nearly crumpled to the floor. Because his knees suddenly felt like Jell-O. “Wha … What?”
Carlo chuckled softly. “You heard me.”
He let go of the camera and wiped his hands on his jeans, feeling like an idiot. “B … b … bait?”
Carlo raked a hand through his thick, raven hair. That shy look Paul had seen earlier now came over Carlo’s face, only now, it didn’t flit away so quickly.
Paul’s heart thumped again. Was Carlo nervous? He’d always thought Carlo never got nervous.
“Yeah. I didn’t know how else to tell you, man. You’re so … quiet.”
Now Paul’s heart was racing almost too fast to breathe. “Tell … me?”
Carlo huffed, but the sound was like mock annoyance. In spite of his seeming shyness, he grinned, that devilish, sexy grin he had. The one that first made Paul go ga ga for him. “Yeah, man. You know, to tell you I … I want you.” His hands went to the button of his jeans. He worked it open, slid down the zipper and left them open. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and his cock, the same caramel hue the rest of him was, Paul noticed, stood straight up from his black pubic hair. The thick veined shaft made Paul itch to touch and taste it.
Paul sucked in a breath. “You … want me?
Carlo pushed his jeans down past his hips and palmed his cock. He rubbed it in slow, light strokes.
Paul stared. He watched Carlo’s hand slide up and down the length of his cock. Carlo sagged back into the cushions, and his breath rasped loudly in the room.
“Get over here, man. Please. I mean, if you want to,” Carlo sounded insecure.
“I want to.” And did he! For three years now.
He came out from behind the camera and crossed over to the sofa. His heart pounded like a jackhammer as he sat gingerly down next to Carlo. Carlo’s scent, musk mixed with rain filled his nostrils, made him feel a bit drunk.
Carlo’s dark gaze simmered into his. Carlo reached out and cupped the back of Paul’s hair. “I love your hair,” he said softly. “It’s like silky gold.” He stroked the back of Paul’s short hair and neck with gentle fingertips. A pleasant shiver ran through Paul’s body, right into his cock. A brief image of Carlo stroking one of his newly finished bikes this way flitted through his mind, that of an artist appreciating his work. “Th … thanks.”
Carlo’s lids lowered more. “I like your blue eyes, too.” He rubbed the nape of Paul’s neck, caressed him with the sweetest touch. “You like that?”
Paul nodded. He glanced down. Carlo’s hand still rested on his cock, which he stroked lazily. Wow, he couldn’t ever have imagined being here like this with the guy of his dreams. Maybe Carlo was just horny, or lonely. Maybe he wouldn’t still want Paul after they came. It didn’t matter.
With gentle pressure, Carlo drew Paul’s face down to his. “Kiss me,” he whispered. He parted his lips and brushed them across Paul’s. At the first touch, Paul’s eyes fluttered closed. God, so soft, Carlo’s lips, just as he’d always imagined them. Carlo’s mustache and goatee tickled his clean-shaven chin in the sexiest way.
He sank in closer to Carlo, surrendered fully to the kiss. His nervousness melted away a bit more, and he ventured to slip his tongue between Carlo’s heavenly lips. Carlo murmured softly in his throat and opened his lips wider, danced his tongue hungrily against his. Carlo’s hands groped at Paul’s T-shirt, lifted the damp material up.
“I want to see that bod of yours,” Carlo breathed between kisses.
Paul broke their kiss long enough to help Carlo get his T-shirt off. He was glad that he worked hard to keep in shape. He had the same v-shape to his torso and similarly carved abs and slim waist as Carlo. He and Carlo were almost identical in height and physique.
“Mmm.” Carlo sat up and leaned into Paul, pressing Paul back against the cushions.
Paul hitched a deep breath. His skin tingled under Carlo’s caresses, and through his hazy pleasure, he saw the contrast of his pale skin with Carlo’s caramel skin.
Carlo leaned over and kissed him again while he stroked Paul’s chest. Carlo’s touch was appreciative, soft and reverent. Even the way he pinched and kneaded Paul’s nipples only stoked the hard-on raging in his jeans.
Carlo slid his hand down Paul’s stomach and worked open his jeans. He pushed his fingertips under the waistband of Paul’s boxers and stroked his cock. Carlo gasped softly and lifted from their kiss. “Damn, Paulito,” he said, grinning, “I always figured you were hung. Now I know for sure.” Before Paul could answer, Carlo kissed him some more, deep and hot.
Paul groaned into Carlo’s mouth and arched his hips upward. Carlo fondled the length of his cock and whispered his
masterful touch over his balls, which tightened more with each caress. Carlo pulled away again. “I love your skin,” he murmured. “So silky over that hard cock.” Before Paul could answer, Carlo took his lips again, caressed Paul’s tongue with his.
Each passing second, Carlo’s kisses grew wilder as he slid down to his knees. He lifted away from his kiss and panted. His hot breath passed over Paul’s skin. Paul slipped his fingers into Carlo’s hair and sifted the length of it between his fingers. “I love your hair, too,” Paul said, chest heaving.
Carlo grinned. Without speaking, he tugged down Paul’s jeans and boxers. Paul felt his cheeks heat. Damn, he was blushing! His freed cock stood straight up in a slight curve from his body. Carlo stared. His tongue came out and slid across his full soft lips. “Like I said before, well hung.”
Paul laughed. Carlo’s praise helped melt away more of his nervousness. “Thanks.” He hitched a breath as Carlo wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it.
“You feel sooo good,” Carlo crooned. He leaned forward and took the head of Paul’s cock into his mouth.
Paul lifted his head and watched. Sparks of heat danced on his skin every inch that Carlo engulfed in the moist heat of his mouth. Carlo feathered his tongue along Paul’s shaft. His dark head bobbed as he took Paul in and then slid back. Paul’s fingers remained in Carlo’s hair. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him; couldn’t have ever imagined Carlo on his knees, sucking his cock.
Boys Will Be Boys - Their First Time Page 5
