textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/cyclist.txt

Cyclist (c)
By Tommie Depp
 
     Greg rides in my neighborhood.  I have seen him many times,
pedalling intently, as I drove by.  I always enjoyed the view of
his muscular buns tight-packed into his skin-tight white shorts. 
I once stopped to offer Greg a ride when he was pushing his bike
along with an obviously flat tire.  He refused, and all I got
that time was his name.  I even met him once in a bar, in full
cyclist's gear, skin-tight shorts, mesh shirt, and that cycling
cap with the upturned bill.  Never got a chance to say more than
hello - he had about nine guys hanging around hitting on him
continuously - he IS a good looking stud.
     I was sitting out by the pool watching the rain one day
(we've had a room built against the back of the house.  It's
mostly glass and gives you the illusion of being outside and
pool-side with all the benefits of air conditioning) when I heard
a knock on the side door.  I stepped around the corner and came
face to face with Greg through the glass.  
     I opened the door to see what he wanted and he said, "Oh,
Hi!  I didn't know this was your place!"
     "Yes," I said, "How are you?"
     "Oh, fine.  I just wanted to ask if I could wait under your
awning while it's raining so hard."
     "Of course, Greg.  Just leave your bike there and come on
inside."
     "Thanks!  It's really pouring!  Hey!  How do you know my
name?"  
     "I stopped once to offer you a ride when you had a flat. 
Remember?"
     "Oh yeah!  I remember.  Your name's..."
     "Tommie."
     "Yeah.  I've seen you around."
     Greg parked his bike, taking time to lock it to my railing
(like someone would have braved a Florida downpour to steal it!)
and came on inside.  I took a good look at him, which I had never
had the opportunity to do before, and forgot my manners.  When I
should have been inviting him in and asking him to have a seat, I
just stood and stared.  
     There was a lot to stare at.  To begin with, the guy was
huge.  I am used to having big men around, Marc is six-two or
maybe six-three.  Greg would have towered over him.  He must be
every inch of six-and-one-half feet tall.  And it didn't stop
there.  He was broad-shouldered and built in a way that would be
called stocky in a smaller man.  On him the word didn't seem to
fit.  He seemed to me to be cut in truly heroic proportions. 
This man might have been the model for Hercules.  David must have
faced a Goliath this size.  Greg's broad shoulders dropped in a
straight line to a solid waist atop broad, solid-looking hips. 
His arms were massive and his legs were the tree-trunks the poets
go on about.  He weighed two hundred and seventy or eighty pounds
if he weighed an ounce.  If there was any obvious fat on him I
couldn't find it.  
     His curly hair, now dripping ringlets, framed a handsome
square-jawed face (where was this guy when they were casting for
Batman?) with a wide, sensual mouth and a faint hint of a five-
o'clock shadow, even this early in the day.  His nose was
grecian, and his eyes were a warm brown.  
     His mesh shirt, soaking wet, clung to every curve of his
body, and as he stood there I inventoried every curve.  He had
shoulders like a football player, massive and mounding up to a
neck as big around as my thigh.  His pecs were massive, heavy,
solid, and placed high on his chest so that his nipples, hard
from the chill of the air-conditioning, pointed out and down. 
They were small, and very dark against his tanned, olive skin.  
     Greg moved past me into the patio area and I wrested my
sight from the bulge at his crotch to catch a good look at his
magnificent ass.  Do you know what happens to white spandex
cycling shorts when they get soaking wet?  They become invisible! 
I could see through his shorts clearly, and I enjoyed every
second of it.  His ass was perfect and his cock was clearly
outlined, though through enough layers of fabric that I couldn't
get the view I wanted.
     "Do you have a towel?  I'm dripping all over your floor."
     "Think nothing of it...I'm drooling all over everything
anyway" was what I wanted to say.  What I did say was, "Sorry, I
should have thought.  Let me show you where the bathroom is.  If
you're cold, take a hot shower, and I'll bring you some of Marc's
clothes.  They'll fit you, I think.  Then we'll put your stuff in
the dryer."
     I pulled my gaze from his massive chest (sculptors would pay
major bucks for such a model) and led him into the house. 
     While he undressed in the bathroom, I dodged into my bedroom
and grabbed a pair of exercise shorts that Marc usually wears
when he works out at my place.  I also snagged an old t-shirt and
headed back to the bathroom.
     I knocked then, and without waiting, opened the door and
held out the clothes to him.  To my annoyance he was standing
behind the door completely out of view and I couldn't think of
any excuse to open the door wider.  As I closed the door, I
caught a flash of skin and kicked myself for not looking in the
mirror. 
     I went back to the living room and sat down to wait.  The
time passed quite slowly, and my anticipation of seeing Greg in
tight shorts and a t-shirt made it seem an eternity.  After a bit
I heard the shower running, and decided that I'd make some coffee
to kill time.
     I came back, carrying two cups of coffee and found Greg
standing in the middle of the room, looking for me.  He was
wearing only a towel, and carrying the clothes I had passed into
him.  
     "I couldn't get into these.  The t-shirt was impossible, and
these shorts just couldn't cut it," he held them out in front of
him and stretched them to their widest- they were too small by
about two inches.  
     I was struck again by just how large he really was.  Marc is
big, has a thirty-six inch waist (which appears narrow) and is
imposing.  Greg must have a thirty-eight or larger waist, seems
anything but narrow, and is genuinely intimidating.  
     "Well, it was worth a try.   Are you warm enough?" I asked,
giving him an obvious head-to-toe inventory.  "This coffee will
warm you some."
     "Thanks," Greg said and sat on the arm of the sofa.  
     "Get comfortable."
     "Well, this towel's sorta wet and my hair..."
     "Just sit down and be comfortable." By way of example I
flopped onto one end of the couch and put my feet up on the
coffee table.  I sipped coffee and watched him over the rim of
the cup.  
     He sat down gingerly, like he was used to being careful not
to break things.  I know it was purely illusion, but his cup
seemed small in his hand as he sipped hot coffee.
     I sat back and just watched him.  The towel was wrapped
tightly about his waist, but sitting down had loosened it
somewhat.  It lay across his lap, sagging between his wide-spread
thighs, emphasizing the bulge of his crotch.  His right leg was
exposed almost to the hip and my eyes followed the smooth skin
from hip to knee.  The expanse of smooth olive skin excited me,
and I kept my coffee cup near my lap to cover what was fast
becoming an embarrassment.  
     Greg leaned back, stretching, and displayed himself for my
viewing pleasure.  His arms raised behind his head were an image
of raw strength.  As he stretched, his biceps flexed.  Across his
belly, deep lines etched a washboard.  His pecs lay firm and
upthrust, his small dark nipples hard and drawing my gaze.  He
raised his bare foot and placed it on the table before him.  As
he did so, a corner of the towel fell between his legs, exposing
his thigh and giving me a full length view.  
     At that moment something distracted me and I put my coffee
cup aside.  When I looked back he had lifted his other leg to the
table, mimicking my own position at the other end of the couch,
and had re-adjusted his towel.  I realized at that moment that
what had distracted me was the smoothness of his legs.  They were
completely hairless, as were his arms.  I peered closely, but
could not tell that he was shaving them.  He had to be, had to.
     About then Greg finished his coffee.  I had already finished
mine but was holding on to the cup and saucer to hide my erection
as much as I could.  He pulled his legs down and leaned forward,
placing the cup on the table.  As he did, his towel came
completely loose, and I got a real nice view.  I still didn't get
a look at his cock, but one leg came completely into view and I
got a nice look at the curve of his ass.  
     As he sat back, Greg casually flipped the corner of the
towel back to where it covered him, but made no effort to tuck it
in again.  I stared, openly, and he smiled in my direction.  
     I stood quickly, nervously, and gathered up my coffee cup. 
As I headed toward the kitchen I reached for his, and he leaned
forward to hand it to me.  The towel disarranged itself again and
I leaned farther forward to get a better look.  Our heads met
with a loud BONK! (honest! it really made that noise!) and I
nearly dropped the coffee cups.  I turned to set them down and
turned back, to see Greg standing with his hands on his forehead
and his towel around his ankles.
     Praise the patron saint of Clumsiness, whoever he is!  I
rubbed my own forehead, to keep my angle of vision low, and to
cover my stare.  
     It didn't work.  
     "Your head OK?" he asked me smiling.
     "Fine."
     With an even broader smile he looked down and asked, "How's
mine?" 
     "Huh?" That's me, brilliant conversationalist under
pressure.
     "You finally got the look you've been trying for."
     "Yeah."
     My conversation was stunted because my hormones had begun to
moan.  He was shaved!  I mean bald!  Not a hint of hair anywhere. 
I had never seen a guy shaved before.  His cock hung down about
six inches, swinging slightly.  It seemed full, somehow and just
looked heavy.  The dark head was an invitation to me and by the
time I got around to looking at his balls, big and weighty, I
began to lose it. I wanted to rub my face against his balls and
lick around the base of his cock.  I wanted to suck his balls,
and take that long, heavy, hunk of meat into my mouth and feel it
get hard.  I couldn't tear my eyes away and my mouth just opened
of it's own accord.  I couldn't think coherently.  I couldn't
talk at all.  I wanted to say any of a hundred things that came
in flashing fragments to my mind, but all that I could do was
stare and lick my lips.  
     Greg stepped in front of me, reached up and put his hands on
my shoulders.  There was no downward pressure but I knelt anyway. 
I did not so much kneel as genuflect.  My position was one of
complete submission.  In that moment I came as close to worship
of his cock as I have ever come to anything.  
     I leaned forward and he placed his hands on my hair.  They
covered my head completely.  As I was struck again by the
hugeness of this man, his stiffening cock rose and touched my
lips.  I licked the head, wrapping my tongue around it, getting
it nice and wet.  My tongue explored further, sliding and licking
down the length of his shaft.   I got underneath and as his
slippery-slick cock rolled across my face I nibbled at the tender
spot where the underside of his shaft met his balls.  I licked up
and down the underside of his shaft.  I moved back and licked the
base of his cock, moving on to moisten the smooth skin of his
shaved groin.
     I reached out, and wrapped my arms around his legs, placing
my palms against the back of his thighs.  I passed my hands up
and down the smooth skin, feeling the hard muscle, digging in my
fingertips and savoring the power of his body.    
     He pulled my face into the wetness of his shaved groin and I
applied my tongue to the smooth skin surrounding the base of his
cock.  I rubbed my face against him, letting his slick, wet, hard
cock rub all over my face.  I held it  with one hand while
licking up and down the shaft.  The other hand I used to cup his
balls.  They were a big handful and I fingered them, marvelling
at, revelling in the soft, smooth skin.  I took his wet cock and
rubbed it over my cheeks, and my mouth.  I lifted one ball and
placed it in my mouth.  While I sucked HARD and tongued it, I
stroked his cock.  
     Greg reached down and captured a drop of pre-cum on his
finger-tip.  He raised his hand to his mouth and sucked it off
his finger.    
     I looked up at him, awed by the massive body above me, and 
reached upward with my hands.  My palms explored his groin, his
belly, the smooth planes of his sides.  At full stretch I could
just cup his pecs in my palms, and I did so, feeling the hard
nipples press against the center of my palms.  
     I opened my mouth wider so I could suck on both his balls. 
With both of those huge balls in my mouth, I could barely move my
tongue.  I made up for it by sucking hard and moving my mouth
back and forth, just as if I were sucking his cock.  
     He put his palms over mine and squeezed, to indicate that he
wanted me to be rougher.  I obliged, squeezing harder and harder,
then taking his nipples and pinching them.  I grabbed hold and
pulled them downward, squeezing as I pulled and twisting.  
     Moaning softly, he reached down and pressed his wet cock
against my face while he pushed his groin forward.  
     I surrendered his balls, but kept working on him with my
tongue, running it up and down his shaft and painting his entire
crotch area while I played with his nipples. I began to tease
them, flicking them rapidly with my thumbnail while I gripped
them tightly.
     Greg moaned again and pressed the head of his cock against
my lips.  I opened my mouth wide, to accept his big, hard cock,
and began to suck him.  I took just the head between my lips and
teased his piss-slit while he thrust his cock toward me.  I
sucked hard, and worked his head with my tongue, lapping all
around it, and getting a taste of pre-cum.
     I reached behind him and grabbed his ass.  I dug my fingers
in tight, and felt the muscles tense then relax as he began to
rock back and forth in time with my sucking.  The play of his
powerful muscles under my hands excited me more and more.  I let
my hands roam his body, caressing at first, then squeezing so
that I could feel the sheer strength captive under my hands. 
With my palms flat against his cheeks, I thought about how he
compared to others. Most guys have cheeks that fill your hand,
and you can nearly cover his ass by spreading your fingers.  Even
big guys seemed small compared to this giant.  Both hands could
cover one cheek, but it did take both.  When I gripped his thigh,
there was very little curve to my palm, it was almost flat
against the side of his leg.     
     Under my hands his muscles tensed and relaxed as I worked
his cock.  As I slipped my lips up and down his hard shaft,
licking the thick throbbing vein on the underside, he pumped his
hips back and forth, feeding me  his meat.  I took time out,
again and again, to stop sucking and just lick the whole length
of his cock.  I loved to lick the smooth shaved patch of skin
around the base of his cock and to feel it's wetness against my
face as I licked his balls. 
     Greg put his hands behind my head and pressed my face
against him.  I felt his ass muscles tense, and he said just one
word "Now."    
     I stopped painting his cock with my tongue and sucked his
head into my mouth.  I held just the head between my lips while I
swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock and teased the piss-
slit.  I let go my hold on his ass and began to stroke his shaft
with one hand while I squeezed his balls with the other.  He
pressed my head hard, trying to shove his cock deeper into my
mouth.  I pulled back, and kept just the head in my mouth.  My
tongue went crazy, swirling wetness around his cockhead, teasing
him to his climax.  I sucked hard, then harder and continued to
tease his piss-slit while he began to moan. With a groan that
just missed being a scream, he shot a load of come right onto my
tongue.  While I sucked the salty sweetness of it out of him I
continued with my tongue and I stroked his shaft faster,
squeezing hard.  He shot another big load  right onto my tongue. 
I swallowed, and swallowed again, having trouble getting it all
down.  
     Greg pulled me toward him and I let him this time.  His
whole hard shaft rammed into my mouth, filling me up, and I
sucked as hard as I could.  He came again, this time jetting his
cum against the back of my throat.  I swallowed hard and
continued to suck.  Greg relaxed his crushing grip, and I knew he
was nearly done, but I wanted more.  I continued sucking, hard,
and worked the underside of his cock with my tongue.  Teasing the
big vein underneath, pressing it hard, from root to tip, sliding
my lips up and down his shaft, I milked out another heavy shot. 
As it landed on my tongue I reached up and pinched his nipples. 
Greg smiled down at me and pushed his cock into my mouth another
time.  I milked a last drop of cum from him, then let his
shrinking cock out of my mouth and pressed my face against his
shaved groin. I just held it there for a minute while he ran his
fingers through my hair.  
     As I looked up at him he smiled at me and said, "Nobody ever
got me off so good.  Do you always suck like that?"
     "Only for you!" I lied.  Why spoil the mood?
     He stepped away from me, and sat down on the couch with a
flop that made it groan.  He waved to me and I sad down beside
him.  With a heave that indicated he didn't consider me heavy,
Greg lifted me into his lap. 
     He pulled my mouth onto his, and as our tongues met, he
began stroking my cock.  I sat there, his huge arm around me
enveloping me, kissing him deeply.  He pulled me close to him,
hugging me warmly, and continued to stroke me with hand.  
     I felt his big cock stiffening under my leg, and I broke off
our kiss long enough to lean back and look at him and wonder what
it would be like to be fucked by such a giant.  
     When I leaned back, Greg leaned forward and began to lick my
chest.  He let his tongue wander all over my, but paid special
attention to my nipples.  While he sucked the gently, and teased
them with his tongue and teeth, he worked my cock with his hand. 
     "You've got a great cock," he told me.  Before I could
answer, he continued, "and a great body, too.  You know what I'd
really like?"
     I knew.  At least I thought I did, and my ass was already
twitching in anticipation, when he said, "I really wanna get
fucked."
     "How about a little lubrication?" I said, standing up.  This
put my cock right at his mouth level and he wasted no time in
taking it in.  
     I had nuzzled and licked and toyed with his cock, but Greg
wasted no time on such.  In his first gulp he nestled his nose in
among my pubic hairs and barely moved it afterward.  He sucked my
hard, very hard, and used his tongue to stroke my shaft.  He did
it ravenously, like he couldn't get my cock deep enough into his
throat.  He buried his handsome face against me and cupped my
cheeks with those huge hands of his.  He squeezed my ass and damn
near lifted me off my feet.  He went on sucking and sucking,
laving my cock with his tongue, and squeezing the muscles of my
ass in his hands like he was kneading dough.  
     He pulled me tightly to him, and I began to feel the rush of
a hot load on it's way to burst into the world.  I put my hands
on his head and he answered by sucking still harder.  I couldn't
believe the way he was getting me off.  It was pure tongue action
and hard, hard sucking.  As I got closer I began thrusting
against his mouth.  It might as well have been a brick wall. 
There was no need to thrust, my cock was as deep in hhis mouth as
it could possibly go... he had it all.  
     He dug his hands deeper into my cheeks, and speeded up his
tongue, pulling back just enough to work on the sensitive
underside skin just back of my cockhead.
     I felt myself ready to cum.  I told him so with words and
with actions.  He dug his hands into my ass, gripping powerfully,
and as I shot my first load, he lifted, actually lifted me into
the air.  I hung there, body arched, crotch thrust against his
face, pinned by his powerful hands, upheld by his massive
strength, my head was back, my mouth open, and my arms just
dangled at my side.  He sucked a huge load out of me.  I didn't
cum in his mouth, I didn't shoot a hot load down his throat.  No,
he TOOK what he wanted.  He pulled a load of cum from out of me,
extracted what he wanted, and left me limp.
     Now it was my turn to say, "Do you always suck like that?"
     "Every damn time," he smiled and leaned back on the sofa.  
     "Christ, man!  I thought you wanted fucked?"
     "It'll last longer if it's your second time."
     I wasn't going to argue with him.
     "Sit down," he said and indicated his lap.  
     I looked at the pole of hard meat shoving up into the air
from his lap and said, "All right!"
     "No, no.  Not yet. I'm first!"
     I put on my best disappointed expression and made as if to
turn and leave.  
     He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down onto his lap. 
His hard cock was trapped under my ass, and my every movement as
I "struggled" to get away was pleasure for him and for me.  
     He finally pinned me against himself, one hand held my cock,
stroking it into stiffness.  His other arm lay across my chest
pinning me against him.  I felt his lips move against my neck,
his hot breath on my back.  I was hard again in moments.
     Greg stood, lifting me easily off his lap, and said, "Fuck
me!"
     He turned, knelt, and flopped forward, burying his face
against his arms on the carpet, sticking his ass up in the air,
an inviting target.  
     I knelt behind him, eager as he was, and began lubing his
asshole.  Damn but he was tight- tight as a virgin.  
     While I fingered him, he began to moan.  When I pressed the
head of my cock against his hole he began to beg, "Fuck me! 
Please, fuck me! Do it hard!  Please!"
     Incredible- how much he wanted fucked, just incredible.  He
kept it up, begging me, repeating, "Fuck me!  Fuck me!  Fuck me
hard!  Please!  Fuck me hard as you can!"
     I've played B&D games with Josh and Marc, and have been
turned on by making them beg for my cock, but this was no game! 
It was for real!.  
     I made the best of it, teasing his hole with the head of my
cock and drawing plea after plea out of him.
     "Fuck me hard!  Fuck me!  Now!  Please!"  it had almost
become a chant. 
     I pushed my cockhead against him, and he backed up toward
me.  I pulled back, then thrus forward, shoving about two inches
into him.
     "Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!  God that's good!  Ram it up my ass. 
Fuck me.  Make me feel it!  Make it hurt!  Fuck me!"
     I couldn't believe this guy!  I never met anybody who wanted
it up the ass so bad.  I pulled back a bit, and he tried to
follow me.  I pulled back faster and pulled myself completely out
of him.  He looked up from from where his head rested against his
hands on the floor, and pleaded with me with a look, "Fuck me!" 
It was almost plaintive.
     I shoved my cock into his ass.  Full length, hard as I
could, no gentleness, not tenderness, just rock-hard meat in a
tight, hot hole.
     "Aaaaahhhhh!" he sounded relieved.  "Fuck me.  Hard! Hard!
Hard!"    
     I pulled back again, completely out of him!  Once again he
raised his head and looked at me.  His expression was like that
of a dog when you take food away from him.  I had a cock.  It was
hard.  Why wasn't it inside him?  I wasn't going to STOP was I?!
     I put my palms on the small of his back and began to lean
into it.  I plunged my cock into him again, full length, no
mercy.  I pulled out again completely, and rammed it into him
again.  He turned back, lay his head on his hands, with a
satisfied expression and began to moan.
     I kept up ramming him, again and again I would withdraw, and
then slam my cock into him.  I fucked him so hard that every
sound of my flesh meeting his muscular cheeks was like a hand-
clap.  He matched every thrust with me, taking all of me into him
with every lunge.
     As I fucked him, he kept up an irregular chant, "Fuck me. 
Hard, harder!  Shove it up my ass!"  Now he added, "Hit me.  Make
my ass sting!  Make it hurt.  Fuck me!  Hit me hard!  Fuck me
hard!  Make me feel it!"
     I began to paddle his ass, slapping gently at first, then
harder.  I felt the solid muscle underneath my hands, and I knew
I couldn't hurt him.  I began to really haul back and hit him. 
Hard underhanded strokes left red hand-prints on his cheeks.
     I continued to pull my cock completely out of him for each
stroke.  I plunged all the way into him with each thrust. 
Between thrusts I slapped his ass and he moaned. 
     I began to dig my fingers into his cheeks after each swat. 
The hard muscle would contract under my hand and I would feel his
hole tighten around my cock too.
     Moaning, he began to thank me between pleas for more,
"Uuuuh.  That's good!  Uuuh.  Ooooohhhh!  Fuck me harder!  Oh,
thank you!  God, you're good!  Fuck me more.  Harder.  Hit me! 
Hurt me.  Fuck my ass!  Thank you!  Please!  More!"
     I began to fuck him faster.  I was really getting into this. 
I began to shout back at him, "You want this?" and I shoved my
cock into him.  "You feel that!" I would say as I slapped his ass
as hard as I could.  "Squeeze!" I would shout as I dug my fingers
into his muscular buns.  
     "Yes. I want it!  Fuck me!  Fuck me! Fuck me!" he answered.
     I began to take shorter strokes, now, getting closer to
cuming all the time.
     He didn't seem to mind because he continued to match me
thrust for thrust, lunge for lunge, begging me to fuck him harder
and harder all the time.  
     I rammed into him faster and faster, barely taking time to
swat hard at his cheeks.  
     Every time I plunged forward he would ram has ass backward
against me.  Every time I pulled back he'd squeeze and I'd plant
a resounding slap on his bright-red ass.  
     I lunged again and again.  I was perspiring, covered with a
film of sweat.  Greg just kept begging for more.  I kept fucking
him.  Hard. Hard. Hard.  I was getting close.   I hit him harder
now, with every slap, and dug in my fingers afterward.  He was
not just pleading now, he was truly begging, imploring me for
more.  I fucked him faster, slapped him harder, thrust myself
against him with all my weight and all my strength.  I leaned far
forward, putting my hands on his shoulders for better leverage. 
I rammed into him again, again and again.  
     He was almost shouting now, "Oh, God!  Make me cum again! 
Fuck me! Hit me!  Shove it in me!  Give me more! Fuck me harder!
Fuck! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK ME!"
     With all my strength I slammed into him again and again.  I
rode him with all my power and when I though I was about to die
of exhaustion I suddenly and uncontrollably came.
     Jamming myself into him with all my strength I shot hot
ropes of cum deep into his ass.   As I shot my load, over and
over, I landed a thunderous round of slaps to his ass, pounding
in underhanded strokes that hurt my hands.  I nearly screamed, an
inarticulate noise, wrenching itself from me as I let my load go.
     I pulled back, thrusting myself away from him, toppling over
on my side, to lie, panting, chest heaving on the carpet.   
     I looked at Greg.  He had rolled over onto his back.  He was
lying, arms spread above his head, legs spread wide, his
softening cock oozing the last traces of cum onto his heaving
belly.  He drew in massive breaths, the play of his muscles
etching hard lines into his chest and abdomen with every lungful
of air.
     I looked him over, all my lust for him gone, but far from
forgotten.  Beside him was a plate-sized patch of carpet covered
with long strings and big drops of cum.  I looked at and it
dawned on me how much was actually there. 
     "Do you always cum like that?" I asked him.
     "Christ!  You really fucked me!" he said.
     I continuedd to stare at that huge puddle of cum, "I can't
believe anybody can cum that much!"
     "I came three times."
     I put my hand on my forehead and pretended to faint.  What a
stud!  He came three times after I had already sucked him off
once!  All in the course, I looked at the clock, of two hours! 
Two hours!  I couldn't believe I had fucked him so long.
     He couldn't either, because he said, "Nobody ever fucked me
like that!" 
     "It's mutual, believe me," I told him.
     Half an your later, after a necking session in which we both
managed to get hard again, but couldn't work up the enthusiasm to
do much about it, Greg's clothes were dry.
     I watched him pull his tight shorts up over his still-red
ass and tuck his half-hard cock down his left leg.  
     I walked with Greg to the door, and stood while he unlocked
his bike.  We stood in bright sunshine.  Hell, the whole place
had dried out while we fucked!
     "You gotta come back soon," I said.
     "You've got my number.  Call me."
     "You'd better believe I will.  I've got someone I want you
to meet!"
     He looked interested, "Yeah?  Blond dude?  Muscle-guy with
shoulder-length hair?"
     "That's him.  Marc."
     "Call soon."
 
 
                             THE END