Blonde Adventures, Part 2 The Marine
Peter de Ruthyn
The first words out of his mouth when I opened the door belied his wholesome smile. "I'm so fucking horny," he said, giving his crotch a squeeze to emphasize the point. I'd never actually seen someone do that before outside of a movie.
He breezed in and dropped his bag, stepping out of his running shoes as he crossed the room and leaving them lie where they fell. I barely had time to close the door before he had stripped off his shirt and thrown it into a corner. His loose jeans were next. He didn't have anything else on. The thickness of his shaved staff drew my attention immediately. The pile of swimsuits visible in my open dresser drawer drew his.
"I like this one," he said, picking out a minimal bikini in gray and white. He slipped into it, or rather squeezed into it. When he was finally fully contained by the little band of fabric, there was a substantial gap between the waistband in front and the smooth skin of his stomach. The pale colors looked sensational against his heavy tan, though.
"That's nice," I said, admiring the fit. He turned around to give me a view of how tightly it was stretched across his rear. I ran my fingers over the taut material, relishing the sensation of warm muscles beneath its slick surface. His hand grasped mine and drew me in closer to him. He guided my fingers around to the growing bulge in the front of his speedo, encouraging me to pleasure him. I obliged, and let my own distended green suit rub against his athletic backside. Green for my Marine.
I may have been in the dominant position for the moment, but he was very much in charge of our encounter. He led me across to my own bed and sat down on the edge. His lips pecked at mine with surprising tenderness and languor. I returned his kisses with interest and more, letting them continue down from his chin to the hard, tiny points of his nipples, and further along every ridge and valley of his abdomen. The V-shape of his torso was magnificently defined. It pointed me onwards like an arrow. I followed it, and as I reached the apex, his erection sprang loose from his borrowed bikini into my waiting mouth.
I teased just the crown with my tongue at first, removing the bead of silver fluid that had accumulated at its base. I ran my tongue up and down the underside of the shaft. I squeezed him a few times, to make him more excited. Then I let him all the way inside me.
As soon as he was well lodged between my lips, he became more assertive, more aggressive. With his hands clasped behind his head, as if he were doing sit-ups, he pumped in and out of my mouth, eyes closed, lips parted erotically. I added to his excitement by fondling his hairless smooth sac with one hand while I massaged his rounded buttocks through his speedo with the other.
He lay back on the bed and I moved between his widely spread legs for better access. Given his improved leverage in this position, he drove deeper and deeper into me with his strokes. Every so often, when the energy of his thrusts left me breathless, I would let him slip from my mouth and kiss and nibble on his wet shaft delicately until I was ready to envelop it again. My own erection overcame the pressure of my swimsuit and exposed itself, only to be pinned against the side of the bed as we moved a little farther toward the center. It glistened there, trapped on display for the observation of anyone who might look behind me.
It popped free with a spring when he pulled me up onto the bed beside him. Our tongues made love while I reached down and continued to fondle him. His size and stiffness and smooth masculinity invited constant attention. I also freed him from the restraint of his swimwear. It had served its purpose. He was totally exposed to me now - and not in the least vulnerable for all his nakedness. I found myself dividing my attention between his lips and his golden torso, which begged for attention and affection. While I nuzzled his chest, he kissed and cuddled my neck. We held each other and occasionally played with our shafts, treading water for the moment. In due course our boyhoods touched one another, their spongy-firm heads rubbing together. A string of clear liquid shone between them when they parted, suspended in midair.
He rolled over, trapping his arousal against the bed, and began to slowly ride it. For the first time, he took me in his hand and stroked me. I stiffened to meet him. He felt it, relinquished my mouth, and did to my erection what I had done to his. Soft touches of lips and tongue, nothing strenuous, but it brought us both to life. While he pleasured me orally, his mouth on my package and the insides of my thighs, I let my fingers trace the outline of the dimples in his lower back, the spaces defined by the powerful muscles of a wrestler. The gesture must have excited him. He deserted my more intimate areas to slide his body atop mine. He cradled my head as he kissed me; I caressed his eagerness, which he thrust into my hand and rubbed against my leg.
Slowly, he tormented my nipples with his tongue, and inflamed by the stimulation, I pressed up against him even as he pressed down into me. We ground our erections against one another, experiencing the kind of intimacy combined with deferred pleasure that only comes from frottage. He went after my chest again, then slowly traveled down the length of my body, taking my hardness into his mouth for a minute, kissing his way along my leg, letting his lips surround my toes. He stood and observed me, the sight of my swollen boyhood, the taut muscles of my stomach as I arched my back in lust, and he realized that I was still partially covered by that little piece of green lycra. His hands ran up my legs again as he knelt between them, and while he distracted me with a kiss once more, he removed my suit and made me as naked as he was.
My sac now called for his attention. One at a time, he took the two orbs it contained in his mouth. I nearly shrieked from the feelings he touched off by doing so. The only relief I was given was when he would lick the underside of my staff before returning to his main interest.
At last he yielded to my trembling and rose to his knees. He swallowed me whole, a soothing form of excitement after the responses that had been jerked from me by the almost invasive eroticism of his last effort. His blonde head with its regulation high-and-tight haircut rose and fell in my lap. Underneath him, I could see that his erection was still full and proud, so full that it was parallel with the surface of the bed. He saw me looking and released me, letting my shaft drop, hard and wet, against my stomach. I shivered. He grinned.
"Turn over," he said.
I rolled over and knelt on all fours. He knelt behind me and made sure my legs were widely spread. Tentatively at first, then more aggressively, he began to tongue the cleft of my buttocks. Wet mouth on smooth skin pulled tight, except for the one place it folded together, the place that twitched with every dart of his tongue. As a precaution, he grasped my rear firmly with his right hand. With his left he reached beneath me and continued stroking my erection. The precautions were unnecessary; I was enjoying his oral efforts far too much to yield to trepidation now. Especially when he went a little lower and laved my perineum, that sensitive and much-overlooked spot which has always driven me wild. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, but I still couldn't suppress the occasional groan of delight. My head swiveled back and forth on my shoulders in response to the pressures on my boyhood. And all the while he continued to tongue me without a break.
Then he entered me.
It was just a single finger at first. The penetration was smooth and steady, the withdrawal equally so. He went all the way to the knuckle with his first few slow strokes. As he increased the pace, the depth of the thrusts became shallower. It went in more and more easily. He added a drop of oil from a small bottle on the nightstand and a second finger. I made appreciative noises. He was very good with his hands.
"I thought Marines were all supposed to be big old bottoms," I said to him, my voice groggy with arousal.
I felt rather than saw him smirk. There was a rustling noise behind me. "Who do you think this gets used on most of the time?"
Stretching my neck, I turned and looked over my shoulder. He had reached into his bag and produced a thick, solid dildo, nearly as big as he was but not quite.
I ventured a guess in response to his question. "You?"
He smirked again and this time I saw it. "Not today it doesn't." He ran an oily hand over its surface and popped the head of it inside me.
I let out a gasp of air at that and my fingers clenched on the sheets. It felt wider than I had expected, much wider. He held it there and continued to hold me at the same time, resuming his stroking even as the long rubber shaft bore down into my innards. It was a slow push, but there was not the least hint of retreat and advance about it. It was buried in me while my erection was buried in his grip. As my senses adjusted, I began to rock back on it a little. He responded by twisting it, and pulling it back just enough to give me something to willingly reabsorb. But he didn't leave it there for long. When he thought it was moving easily enough, he pulled it out and turned me over again.
He slipped off the bed and guided me across to the edge. I knew what was coming now. I raised my legs in the air, resting one heel on his shoulder but holding the other well back so as to give him a clear shot. His staff shone in the light, gleaming with oil, with his body's own lubrication, and with the sheen of fine skin stretched to its maximum.
He eased himself into me. His teasing and slowly released passion had elevated me to such a peak of desire that my body opened readily before him. And he took me slowly at first. But only at first. I could feel his rod glowing with heat inside my buttocks. The lovemaking at which he had so excelled earlier was disappearing, replaced by pure need and sexual potency. He gave my hardness a few desultory strokes, and rubbed my perineum gently as his rhythm intensified, but that was all. His focus had shifted to the erect, leaking shaft which he watched penetrate me with closely-bit lips. I could hear him breathing harder in the gaps between my own moans. The faster he went, the more I cried out, taken over by the power of our coupling.
It took him only a short time for him to be reaching as deep as he possibly could, and to be moving with all the force he could muster. My muscles, tight as they were, did nothing to resist his possession of them. His strength and hardness were so great that he slid in and out of me without resistance. The force of his hips driving into me time and again shoved me gradually back on the bed. When he realized what was happening, he thrust himself fully into me and clambered up on the bed himself, pushing me ahead of him as he went. He needed better access now. He seized my ankles and held them up and apart. Stretched out like this, there was no impediment in the way of his satisfaction. He fired away more and more quickly, panting. I nearly shouted from the eye-rolling sensations he was forcing my body to experience indefinitely. The surge of energy went on and on, passing through me without a pause, until his breaths and my little cries had blended into one low murmur expressing overpowering sexual awareness.
Suddenly his body convulsed and froze. His face screwed up. Then he moved again with blinding speed, pulling himself from inside me, climbing forward over my legs, pointing his reddened boyhood in the direction of my lips. Without touching them, without coming near them, without giving himself more assistance than a few fingers at the base of it to direct the flow, he gave in to the pleasure my rear had unleashed in him and which he had barely been able to delay long enough to share it with me. A steady stream of pearlescent fluid burst from his aroused phallus, shooting in four bursts onto my waiting tongue, while he grunted and shook from the overpowering nature of his joy.
As I savored his juices in my mouth, he reached behind him, and I felt the stiff flesh of my own erection release my orgasm into his hand.
Comments and feedback welcomed at peterderuthyn@gmail.com! Also look out for my upcoming collection "Toyboys and Other Stories".