Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. If
you are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or
man/man relations, please exit this page.
THE LIFEGUARD
Copyright 1999 Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.
Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed
electronically or in any other manner without the express,
written consent of the author. All rights are retained.
Part 1
THE SEDUCTION?
It was like most Sunday afternoons. From my spot in the den,
I could see that the pool in the backyard was full of boys,
gorgeous boys, at that.
Let me explain: My daughter collects boys, not one or two or
three, but big bunches of them. I knew that this particular
group consisted of all of the off-duty, single, lifeguards
from one of the local beaches. They have become kind of
like regulars. My daughter has this group pretty well
trained. They come over around three in the afternoon,
bringing a cooler of beer and soda, and hamburgers, hot dogs
or steaks to be barbecued later, and don't get rowdy or cause
any problems.
My daughter Annie, not into sharing, is the only female in
this sea of testoserone. I am definitely jealous of her
ability to attract such a following, but I'm not a 22 year
old female who has the looks to be a Playboy centerfold. Her
flirtation, rarely serious, keeps them coming back. She
enjoys the attention, and they seem to enjoy the casual
ambience that she can provide. I kid her a lot about
throwing one or two of her "spares" my way, which prompts her
to remind me of the agreement we have: Look, but don't
touch. If, however, one of her "boys" makes the first move,
then all bets are off. So far, that hadn't happened.
The guys ranged from around 20 to 30, and, this group was
particularly gorgeous. Marvelous tans, and bodies
definitely worthy of being drooled over. I had a nodding
acquaintence with several of them, passing them in the
kitchen. They are all very polite and respectful of me as
"Annie's Dad", and I try to maintain my dignity even though I
ache to fondle a gorgeous ass or cup a basket with my hand.
Oh well, the joys of parenting!
Another look out the open window. For the sake of my sanity,
I try not to focus on any one, seeing instead a melange of
beautiful butts, pecs, six packs, biceps, and smooth skin.
All are wearing those loose, baggy swimsuits which don't show
a thing - in or out of the water. Damn. Their hair ranges
from sun bleached blond to coal black, and their faces all
have the exuberance of youth, and again I try not to focus on
any one. All are handsome.
Time to re-focus on my reading. I've tortured myself enough.
Even though I see this display most every weekend and have
become used to it, I still have a definite reaction to all
that gorgeous manflesh when I allow myself to look and
fantasize.
I'm reading an article about the latest findings in the
recently re-discovered Egyptian tomb that is believed to once
have contained the sons of Ramses the Great. I'm very
interested in Ancient Egypt and read most everything that I
can find, and after several visits, have a rather impressive
collection of relics and reproductions of Egyptian artwork
scattered around among the rest of my art collection which
is in every room in the house.
I'm about ten minutes into the article when Annie comes
barging in, dragging along one of her disciples. "Dad, this
is Eric, and he's really impressed with your art
collection". I get up to shake hands with this half-naked
god, who seems a little shy and a bit in awe of Annie's
enthusiasm. Before any more can be said, we hear Annie, we
need you" coming from the pool. Annie turns and bolts,
leaving poor Eric just standing there.
Feeling a bit sorry for the poor guy being left in such an
awkward situation by my impetuous daughter, I ask him to sit
down. He hesitantly, takes a seat opposite me. "I certainly
hope I'm not bothering you," he says.
"Not at all," I reply. "I'm just having a quiet afternoon,
doing nothing. Tell me, what did you see that was
interesting?"
"I'm really impressed with some of the Egyptian things I
saw. You have some wonderful pieces. They look like they
came out of a museum! I only got to see a couple, but they
were great".
The shyness was gone, he was getting enthusiastic. And, he
had hit a nerve, picking something that I was most interested
in! Eric went on to tell me that he was going to college
part time, and was taking a course in Egyptian History that
he was thoroughly enjoying. He didn't go into any other
details about himself, just this, but I could tell he was
genuinely interested in the subject.
I offered to show him more of my collection, and, as we were
getting up, Annie came bursting in and started to drag Eric
back out to the pool. I wasn't about to let this opportunity
get away, so said "Hold on a minute. Eric, would you like to
come back sometime and see my collection?"
"Definitely," he answered.
"Call me sometime, and I'll show it to you. Do you have our
number?"
"No" he said, so I went to my desk and got a card for him. He
took it, and off they went.
"Call anytime," I said to his receding back.
I couldn't help but look out over the pool to get another
look at Eric. I saw him come out with Annie, then go over
to his backpack and put the card I had given him into it
before rejoining the rest of the group. Aha! I might
really see that stud again! He might actually call!
Reading, for the moment at least, was out of the question.
I couldn't concentrate. I leaned back and, in my mind,
replayed the scene. I saw him sitting across from me, his
sparkling, somewhat mischevious blue eyes sometimes shaded by
a shock of sun bleached blond hair, his perfect nose and
strong chin. On down to his nice shoulders, broad but trim,
perfecty muscled arms, his chiseled pecs and washboard
stomach, narrow hips, then long muscular, shapely legs. The
only hair that I had noticed was a thin line of almost
invisible blond fuzz from his navel to his swim trunks. He
was about my height, six feet, and looked to be in his late
twenties.
This was the stuff that dreams and hardons are made of. I was
having both, and it was time to return to reality in the
event I was interrupted again.
For the next few days, I couldn't get Eric out of my mind.
Had I picked up on something more than just interest in
ancient history? Was there something there, or was this just
wishful thinking? Regardless, I fantasized about him, and
spent more time than usual beating my meat with images of him
in my mind's eye.
I think it's time I told you a little bit about me. I'm 50
years old, divorced, and openly gay. I got married at 26,
and it only lasted six years. After Annie was born, my
ex-wife turned into a complete bitch, and, when she mentioned
it, I jumped at the chance for a divorce. It was a messy one
and seemed to take forever. We got joint custody of Annie,
but they moved to Indiana to be with her parents and I saw
very little of Annie until she was twenty when she decided
she'd had enough of her mother and came to live with me.
Shortly after we separated, I started thinking more about the
feelings that I had been repressing, and ended up coming out
of the closet with a bang, (but that's another story). I did
the usual whoring around, but rather quickly settled down
into a relationship that lasted almost until Annie showed up
on my doorstep. Since my breakup, I'd been "looking", but
not with a great deal of enthusiasm, being content to spend
time with my daughter and take care of my business. My love
life, at that moment, consisted of an occasional date, but
mostly my left hand took care of things.
My business had reached the point where I had delegated most
of the day-to-day tasks, and I only went in to the office a
couple of days a week, and mostly worked from home, connected
by phone, fax and the Internet. Home was where I loved to
be. High on a hill overlooking the ocean, and with
everything I could possibly want.
At 50, I ain't bad. I'm told that I look at least 10 years
younger than my actual age. I'm tall, slim, tanned, and
stay that way by spending a lot of time in and around the
pool. I'm also told that I have "killer" blue eyes that go
with my dirty-blond hair. I think I'm pretty average, but I
do get quite a few looks from both sexes. Oh yes, my name is
David Rush. I prefer Dave.
After a few weeks, my fantasies about Eric started to wane.
I had noticed that he hadn't been among the Sunday crowd.
(You betcha, I looked!) I got busy with work, and did a
little traveling.
Then, one morning the phone rang. It was Eric. I pooh-poohed
his extravagant apologies for not calling sooner, and he
asked if my offer to show my collection was still open. Of
course! Any time! An appointment was set for the next day
after lunch. All the time I was talking to him, my heart
felt like it was going to explode, and my pants started to
bulge.
Here we go again, I thought. More fantasy material and more
wishful thinking. I couldn't help it. I wanted this guy, and
bad! He was the embodiment of every fantasy I had ever had.
But, on the other hand, I realized that I'd have to play it
really carefully and not make a fool of myself. Relax, I
told myself. Just be yourself. You're masculine and very few
people, usually only other gays, pick up on your sexuality.
If there are any moves to be made, let him make them.
The next day, I was relaxed. Sure, you bet! I tried to be
nonchalant, putting on my "at home" uniform - old jeans and a
pullover shirt, no shoes.
When the doorbell finally rang, there was Eric. Blue eyes
flashing and a big smile. I almost lost it right there.
Fortunately, this time he had a few more clothes on. Shorts
and a button-down shirt that really did very little to hide
the body underneath. I regained my composure, asked him
in, and took him back to my den again.
Along the way, he started telling me how busy he'd been with
both school and his job as a lifeguard. He had been given a
lot of extra and longer shifts at the beach, and every other
minute was taken up with studies. Before we got too
comfortable, and I got too uncomfortable, I suggested that
we take a tour.
My collection is eclectic. There are a lot of good pieces,
both sculpture and paintings, that I have bought at auction,
or picked up on my travels. Mixed in with these are some of
the things that I just "like" regardless of their value or
importance. Periods and styles are mixed, but the result is
pleasing, and creates an atmosphere that I enjoy living in.
(Hey, aren't all we gay guys decorators at heart?)
We toured the main rooms, and I noticed that he had a very
good "eye", picking out the "good" stuff to comment on, but
being polite about the rest. I couldn't help but be
impressed by the questions he asked and the comments he
made. Here was a hunk with a brain! At the time, I got
engrossed in the collection, and wasn't distracted by his
nearness.
When we got back to the den, we continued talking about my
"stuff". It was clear that he was most interested in and
impressed by the really old, really good Egyptian things that
I had. This led to a discussion of the course he was still
taking. It turned out that his instructor was an old friend
of mine, but I didn't mention that.
Our conversation was lively, and both of us were completely
engrossed. Finally, I was able to talk with him, and not
think about HIM. It became a comfortable, easy exchange.
Time passed, and eventually, he said he had to go.
Reluctantly, I led him back to the door, and on the way out,
he asked "Can we do this again sometime? I really enjoyed
talking with you."
"Of course, but call first so I can be sure to be home" I
told him.
Alone, I replayed our conversation in my mind. The subjects
that we had discussed, and all of the digressions had all
been almost academic. Absolutely nothing personal about
either one of us had come up. Very interesting! Were we
both consciously or subconsciously avoiding that? Why? Our
discussion had centered around the art and history of Egypt,
but I hadn't even mentioned the many trips I had made there,
or offered any anecdotes about them. This was very
uncharacteristic of me - I loved regaling my friends with
wild, but true, stories about my exploits. Possibly, this was
because my last two trips had been with Tom, my lover. I
guess I was afraid that this would slip out, and
subconsciously had left it out.
Eric was definitely an engaging partner in conversation. We
had been relaxed, and comfortable with each other. The talk
just flowed. Then, there was that last remark. What did it
mean? Was he interested? Oh shit, more torture! I refuse
to let myself get caught up in this again, I told myself.
But, I did want to see him again, and for damned sure, I
wanted to know more about him, and would definitely steer
the conversation in that direction when I saw him again. If
I saw him again.
I didn't have long to wait. He called the next day.
I invited him for lunch the following day. Dinner was out
because that would mean that Annie would be around, and I
wanted him all to myself, and the middle of the day was
safer, less formal, less like a "date".
My thoughts went crazy. I imagined all sorts of ideal
scenarios, and my fantasies had a field day. I started
dreaming up all of the ways I could get my hands on his body,
how he would start it, and where it would lead. Slamming
myself back into reality, I started to plan lunch.
I love to cook. I'm not pretentious about my talents, but I
AM good. I can make a bearnaise or a hollandaise with the
best of 'em. Let's keep it simple, though, for tomorrow.
Nothing exotic or unusual. I have no idea what he likes to
eat or dislikes, so keep to the middle road.
It's 11:30 AM, the doorbell rings. I'm in my usual "uniform",
not wanting to give an impression that this is a special
occasion. Just act normal. For godsakes, don't grab him and
lay one on his lips, I tell myself. After the last twenty
four hours of fantasizing, I have to get my feet back on the
ground.
I screw up my courage and open the door. All I can see are
sparkling blue eyes and a huge grin. And, a bottle of wine
in his hand. Ohmigawd! What does this mean?
I ask him in, and he hands me the bottle. "The least I could
do" he says "hope it goes with what's for lunch."
I take the bottle from him, thank him, and lead him into the
kitchen. I had this planned. Informal. Keep it light.
Eric hops on a stool and turns to watch me put the finishing
touches on lunch. I make us both a soda, saving the alcohol
for lunch. The atmosphere lightens. I'm back on the ground,
at least temporarily... until he came around the counter, put
his arm around my waist and peered over my shoulder to see
what I was cooking. I couldn't move. "Sure smells good" he
said and returned to his perch. Just like that.
After what seemed like hours, I regained the ability to move
and speak. Eric didn't seem to notice what his touch had
done to me. He started chatting away, and, with a great deal
of effort I picked up the banter.
We took our plates out to a table by the pool, and easily
settled into the normal mundane chit chat that one does while
stuffing one's face. It seemed like we were both famished.
His table manners were impeccable, but he was definitely
hungry. I welcomed the diversion. I needed an opportunity
to calm down and not have to think. Food was the answer.
His wine went perfectly with our food, and I sipped, having no
intention of getting any more light headed under these
circumstances.
After eating and taking the dishes back to the kitchen, we
came back to the table by the pool. It was a beautiful,
warm day, and the chairs were comfortable. I didn't want
our conversation to get bogged down on "Academic" subjects,
so asked Eric "How's school going?"
"Slowly," he replied. "I don't have enough time to take all
of the courses I would like to, and at this rate, it's going
to take me four more years to get my bachelors degree. I try
to work only the minimum 32 hours a week as a lifeguard, but
for the last three months, with all the flu going around,
they've been calling me in for extra shifts and longer
hours. That hasn't helped my grades, but I think I can pull
them back up by the end of the semester. Then, when I get my
bachelors, I want to go on and get my M.B.A. If I don't keep
my grades up, I won't be able to do that."
I was surprised, somehow I had him figured for a liberal arts
major. "So you're a Business major?" I asked. "And why don't
you quit your job and go full time?"
"To answer your first question, I'm an Econ major now, as a
prereq for the M.B.A. program. As to going full time, I'm
determined to do this myself. My Mom and Dad would gladly
pay for everything, but I won't take money from them, and I
don't want to end up with a huge student loan that will take
me the rest of my life to pay off. I'm probably too damned
independent for my own good, but that's the way I am."
"You seem to have a strong interest in History and Art, too,"
I commented, a vague idea starting to form in my mind.
"We have to take a certain number of Liberal Arts credits,
and when I started taking care of this requirement, I got
interested, particularly in Egypt after taking my first
course from Professor Powell. She makes it all so
interesting, not just a bunch of dates to memorize, then
forget."
When he mentioned Helen Powell, my mind started racing. This
could be my chance to bring a personal, very personal,
subject into our conversation, and in the context of what we
had been discussing. I decided to test the water.
"I'm familiar with Helen Powell," I told him. "I hear she's
an excellent teacher, but I've also heard that she really
stays away from controversial aspects of her subjects. Want
to have some fun with her?"
"Sure, what's there to lose? What do you have in mind?" Eric
answered, his interest obviously piqued. I could see his eyes
sparkle at the prospect!
"I don't think there's anything to lose, and you might learn
some really interesting stuff," I continued. "Why don't you
ask her about the sexual side of the Pharaoh's religious
rituals? I wouldn't ask her in class, but before or after. I
don't think she'll tell you much, but she might give you the
names of books where you could find out more."
"And what am I going to find out?" he asked with a big grin
on his face.
"Honestly, I don't know all the details myself, just what
I've learned from the History Channel, and that was pretty
circumspect. I understand that some British Egyptologists
researched the subject pretty thoroughly sometime in the
1800's, and wrote several books on the subject. If I knew
what they were, I'd find them myself." I told him.
"So you're going to use me to satisfy your curiosity, huh?"
He was still sparkling, definitely interested. "How about if
I find the books, then bring them over and we can read them
together?"
"That would be fine with me". I answered. This was working
better than I could ever have hoped. I had been able to
introduce the subject of sex in an academic context, and he
was curious. That was an excellent sign. Not wanting to put
too much importance on this, I changed the subject.
"Do you have any plans when you finish school?" I asked.
"None yet, I'm keeping my options open. Tell me a little bit
about your businesss," he said, changing the subject again.
"I'm in the metal fabricating business. Ever hear of
Metalco?"
"Wow, is that yours? They're huge!"
"Yep, that's mine. I inherited it about 20 years ago when my
Dad died. We used to be mostly a defense contractor, but
after the Cold War ended, we had to do some fancy footwork,
and now, we're mostly consumer products oriented. We have
some really good people, and the Company just about runs
itself, as you can tell. I only go in to the office a couple
of days a week, and do most of my work from here at home.
That gives me a lot of freedom."
"I had no idea that that's who you were," he said, "you come
across as a regular guy, not like a big business tycoon!"
"Thank you" was all I could say. I wanted to get off of this
subject as fast as I could. I had had to answer his
question honestly, but I wanted him to like me for what I
was, not who I was or what I had. So, I asked "How did you
get started as a lifeguard?"
"I love the water, and I love the sun. What other job can
you find where you can get a lot of both and get paid?" He
really warmed to the subject, telling me how he got started
when he was 19, and had progressed through the ranks. He
told me about the guys he worked with, and the people he had
to deal with at the beach. He had a lot of funny stories
about things that had happened to him that we both laughed at.
The atmosphere was light, we had laughed a lot, and, it
seemed, moved closer. He said he had to get going, so I led
him back to the front door. On his way out, he said that he
had a class with Helen Powell that evening, and would call me
after he talked with her.
Another afternoon spent with the man of my dreams. I also
realized that I was thinking about him a lot more as a person
than as a sex object. The fact that he was attractive and I
wanted him in that way was undeniable, but, as I got to know
him, learned more about him and the interests that we shared,
I was seeing him in a new light. Lust was being replaced
with caring, and, dare I say it, love. This I hadn't
expected. Hell, he hasn't given me any indication, other
than putting his arm around me, that he might even be
remotely interested, and maybe I was even misinterpreting
that gesture.
The subject of sex had been broached, albeit in a clinical,
impersonal way. Hopefully, if and when he found out more
about the Egyptians, the subject could take on a more
personal aspect. All I could do was wait. I knew I would see
more of Eric, but had no idea where our relationship was
going. In the meantime, all I could do was hope.
Eric called the next evening. He had talked with Helen, and
she had given him four titles to look for. He had found
three of them at the library - had had to have them retrieved
from the archives, and suggested that he bring them over the
following day. I suggested lunch again, which he readily
agreed to.
This was it. The day of reckoning, I hoped. This was my best
shot at learning about his sexuality, and, hopefully, whether
he leaned toward men, which I desperately hoped.
When I opened the door to him, I could sense a change. He
seemed to be charged with excitement. He took the books
into the den, then joined me in the kitchen. Instead of
watching me cook, he asked to help. A new intimacy
developed. We bumped shoulders while we were putting our
lunch together, and it seemed so natural and unplanned.
We ate on the deck again, and had the usual polite
conversation while we were eating. When we were finished, he
startled me by saying "I have a confession to make. I
didn't wait for you to get into those books."
"That's OK," I said, "And..."
"It was like you said it probably would be, really dry
writing. Very prim and proper British, but the subjects
weren't! I didn't know what to expect, so was pretty
surprised with what I found, and even more surprised at my
own reaction to it. I had to dig a lot to find the
interesting stuff, but it didn't take long before I realized
that this stuff was HOT! It certainly isn't porn, but it
still gave me a roaring hardon! Hell, just thinking about it
is giving me one right now."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Of course, this was
what I wanted to hear, but nevertheless, I was surprised by
how open he was about it.
"That was my reaction." he continued, "now I want to see what
kind of reaction you have. I've flagged the 'good' stuff.
Let's go into the den and read it".
Was this really happening? Eric stood, and it was more than
obvious that he had been telling the truth. His baggy shorts
stuck out in front of him like a tent! This was my first
glimpse of what he may have in there, and it was impressive.
More than impressive, that bulge was awe inspiring.
"Sorry about that. I knew this would probably happen, and I
should have worn a jock instead of boxers," he said, a big
smile on his face. What happened to the shy Eric that I had
met a few months ago?
"Don't worry about it" I said. "I'm having a little reaction
myself just anticipating. Let's go."
We went inside, Eric unselfconsciously "pointing" the way.
Instead of sitting across from me, Eric settled into a chair
right beside me. He pulled the books over, took one, found
his markers and handed it to me, pointing where I was to
start reading.
Having a rough idea of what I'd find, I started speed reading
the text. As expected, I read how the Pharaoh was led into
the "Holy of Holies" at the temple to the shrine of Amun.
There, the solid gold statue of the God, with his enormous
penis rested on the Holy Ark. In this torchlit, erotic
setting, the Pharaoh was ceremoniously undressed. Then the
priests, using aromatic oils proceeded to masturbate him to
orgasm, spilling his seed in the presence of the great God,
proving his potency and ability to reign.
The writing was dry and academic, but nevertheless provided
enough details to make the whole narrative very erotic,
indeed. It had the expected effect on me. I got hard as a
rock. Uncomfortably so. I reached into my jeans to readjust
my dick so that I wouldn't be in pain, and Eric, watching me
intently, almost yelled "Aha! I'm not the only one who
reacts that way!"
This still didn't tell me anything about Eric. He was
commenting on an observation, not saying that he wanted to
grab me. And, what he said next, still didn't make things
clear, but gave me another opening to find out more.
"I'll bet you have a statue of Amun around somewhere. Right?"
I had to admit that I did. I told him that I had it stashed
in the bedroom, out of sight. "What would people think if I
had it out in the open!!"
He wanted to see it. He almost begged me to let him see it.
I didn't want to seem TOO eager, but got up and led him into
the bedroom. It was apparent that he hadn't lost the hardon
that he had displayed earlier, and it even seemed to have
gotten bigger.
In the bedroom, I opened the cabinet that held my statue.
This reproduction of Amun is about 18 inches tall, not solid
gold like the original, but very heavily gilded. The statue
had a disproportionately enormous, circumcised, erect penis
at least 10 inches long, sticking straight up. Eric walked
over and stared at it. Then he reached out and took the huge
dick in his hand and lightly stroked it. "Almost life size
isn't it?" he chuckled, turning and smiling at me. We both
laughed. Then he said "Have you ever thought about
re-enacting the ritual?"
This was my opportunity. "Yes, I've thought about it, but
I've never had the opportunity," I told him.
"Now's our chance" he said quietly. I took particular note
of the "our" he had used. Here we were, both sporting
roaring hardons, him stroking the dick on the statue, and I
had a choice?
I didn't even hesitate. "Let's go for it! You be the
Pharaoh".
He kicked off his shoes and reached for the buttons on his
shirt. "Hold it," I said. "If we're going to be authentic,
the priest has to do the undressing." No way was I going to
miss this opportunity!
He put his hands down, and I stepped closer to start
unbuttoning his shirt. Carefully, slowly, I started on his
buttons. When I reached the waistband of his shorts, I
pulled the shirt up and finished the job. I lifted his shirt
off of his shoulders and he pulled his arms through. His
perfect arms and chest were within inches of my face, and
only a superhuman effort kept me from tonguing his already
erect nipples. As hard as it was for me, I wanted to stick
to the script from the old book.
Next, I squatted to take off his socks. When that was done,
I moved back up to his shorts. I unbuckled his belt, and
slid down the zipper. I could feel his hard cock straining
for release. I pulled the shorts down, then went back to his
boxers. His dick was still hidden, but it didn't take me
long to slip down his shorts, carefully freeing the most
beautiful dick I had ever seen in my life. It had to be at
least eight inches long, probably closer to nine. Circumcised
with a large head that was just slightly larger than the
shaft. The shaft wasn't too thick, but in perfect proportion
to its length, smooth and finely veined. Hanging below were
two sizeable balls, already partially retracted upward.
My sharp intake of breath was involuntary. Such beauty.
Again, I had a problem. I wanted that thing in my mouth
more than anything, but I had to stick to the script! His
dick was pointing straight out, slightly upward, and
throbbing. I reached out with one hand, then both, and
gently grasped him. This time, it was his turn for a sharp
intake of breath. I moved my hands slowly up and down the
shaft, tickling the corona with my thumb, and looked up into
his eyes. He was smiling, his eyes seemed a bit glazed, but
looked straight at me. "I hate to break the spell", I said.
"I don't have any aromatic oils, so how about lube?"
"That would be great," he almost whispered.
Reluctantly, I took my hands off of his dick and went into the
bathroom to get the lube. When I came back, he hadn't moved,
and was still holding the dick on the statue.
I squeezed a liberal amount of lube onto one hand, then
spread it over both hands. Standing directly in front of
him, I grasped his incredible dick again, and started to
slowly stroke him with both hands. I would move from the
base to the end, giving special attention to the underside of
the head, and rotating my hand around the head. He moaned
and shivered every time I hit the head.
I looked at his face, expecting to find his eyes closed, but
they were wide open, looking at me, and he was still
smiling, blissfully.
I continued to stroke slowly. I wanted this to last for him,
for it to be an unforgettable experience. Without warning,
Eric started twitching, almost convulsing, and jets of cum
started spurting out of his dick. Standing right in front of
him, they landed on my shirt and all over my jeans. His
jerking and twisting continued as he continued to shoot. It
came in spurts, and I'd think he was finished when another
volley would hit me. He was having the longest orgasm I had
ever witnessed.
When he finally slumped, almost collapsing, I milked the last
remaining cum from him, wiping it off on my shirt. I finally
let loose of his still hard dick, and he staggered over to
the bed and sat down.
After a few minutes of recovery, he looked up at me and said
"That was the most intense orgasm I've ever had!" He was
smiling and the twinkle was back in his eyes. "Now it's your
turn".
This took me totally by surprise. I wasn't expecting
reciprocation. I was more than happy just getting him off,
and had almost cum myself when he did. "OK?" he asked. I
nodded and sat on the bed by him.
"That would be great" I told him, "but it isn't going to
happen with me standing up."
"That's OK, you can sit on the bed, but you're going to have
to stand up so I can undress you first."
He stood, his magnificent member starting to point downward,
but only a little. I stood too, and he moved in front of
me. He gently lifted my shirt over my head, then repeated
the process I had used on him. I was wearing jockeys and he
gently lifted them out and down freeing my cock. I'm
certainly not as long as he was, only about seven inches,
cut, and average thickness. He took it in his hand and
started stroking. It was heavenly. But, I had to sit before
I collapsed.
He knelt before me, and continued stroking. I reached for the
lube to hand to him, but he said, "Since we're departing
from the script, let me do this my way". I didn't argue.
The next thing I knew, his hand had been replaced with the
warmest, softest mouth that had ever been on my dick. He
took it completelly to the hilt, his tongue and lips seemed
to be everywhere, stimulating not only the head but the
entire shaft too. The sensation was incredible. He didn't
stroke up and down much, just letting his tongue and the
inside of his mouth provide all the action. I felt like I was
in a velvet blender.
I tried to hold off. It didn't work, and the last thing I saw
were his smiling eyes before I was blasted into the most
intense maelstrom of flashing lights and total bliss that I
had ever experienced. He got every drop, then slipped up on
the bed beside me. He leaned over and kissed me gently on
the lips, then moved back to look me in the eyes. "Finally"
he whispered.
To be Continued.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at gay fiction, and
the only way I can learn whether or not I should continue is
from my readers' feedback. I would appreciate your comments,
criticism, suggestions, and anything else that you would care
to say. All Email will be answered. Contact me at:
orrinrush@yahoo.com