Shortly after we met, I tried to get you to my exercise class, but you didn’t seem interested. This was another of those situations that scared you, although I couldn’t imagine why, since you appeared to have no fear of anything athletic.
Every now and then I raised the issue again, and eventually you either tired of being asked, let curiosity get the better of you, or saw it as a challenge, which we both know you can’t resist. You agreed!
I chose my outfit carefully that morning, trying to decide between the form-fitting black spandex bike shorts and the looser-fitting but very short elastic waist grey ones that tie. The latter won. On top I chose a pale green tank that said “Eat, Sleep, Work Out”. [Never could figure out why it didn't say "Fuck".] As always, I wore an extremely supportive workout bra in an attempt to continue passing the pencil test.
I decided my cover story was that you’re gay, which was seriously laughable under the circumstances, but I needed something in case someone asked. We chose a Thursday, and I was slightly worried when you hadn’t arrived before class started. But then you showed up about five minutes late. I greeted you at the door and gave you the necessary form to fill out. You completed it quickly and joined the class.
The moves aren’t at all difficult once you know what you’re doing, but no one has a clue at their first class. The newbies typically stand in the back of the room and try not to be noticed. I thought it was interesting that you stood next to me in the middle row, as if to say, “I am not intimidated.” I liked it.
You really did give it your best, and I was impressed that you were substantially more coordinated than the handful of other men I’d seen in class over the years. But it still made me laugh to see you there.
For some reason, the air conditioning in the gym just wasn’t cutting it. By the time class was over, sweat was dripping off my chin and soaking my top almost to my belly button. How I longed to get that sweaty getting busy with you!
At the end of class, I briefly introduced you to the instructor and some of the other students, and you and I walked out together. In the parking lot, I asked if you had time for a quick stop, and you agreed, though you weren’t sure what I had in mind.
You followed me to the very aptly named Comfort Inn, where you discovered I’d booked a room. I could tell you were about to protest, until you saw that “if you turn me down, I will be crushed” look in my eyes. [Always choose the nice guy, because he is less likely to disappoint.] After a brief hesitation, you followed me upstairs. When we got inside, you removed my workout clothes in slow motion, pausing to inhale the juices that had collected in my underwear. I then dispensed with your clothing, having some difficulty with your shorts, but eventually accomplishing the task.
I took your hand and led you into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped inside. I got my whole body wet, enjoying the feel of the water flowing everywhere, and invited you in. You joined me and immediately grabbed the soap, using it to caress my entire body. The first stop at which you lingered was my tits, applying soap all over them, tracing the outline of my nipple softly with your index finger. You seemed to like them, despite my assessment that they’re too small. Continuing down my belly, skipping my pussy to torture me, you soaped my legs, then turned me around and started on my back. It was actually a soaping combined with a backrub, and it felt amazing. When you got to my ass, I knew you would linger there for a while, ass man that you are, and that was just fine with me.
When you decided it was time to return to my pussy, I put my right foot on the wall to allow you easier access. You smiled and thanked me. So much better than doing it myself. You had some difficulty thoroughly cleansing between my legs, since the area had been so completely inundated with my juices…but you soldiered on, continuing until I was clean.
You once told me I should kick it up a notch from my usual Brazilian wax and shave my pussy completely. With that in mind, I packed a razor in my bag and reached for it at this point in the festivities. I handed it to you and you took the challenge, applying more soap to the area and very gently removing the remaining hair.
Once you were satisfied that I was sufficiently cleansed, you handed me the soap and said, “My turn.”
“My pleasure,” I replied. I started by kissing you, pressing our wet, naked bodies together in an amazing embrace. Then I stepped back to admire your toned physique. Nothing sexier than a man in good shape.
I began soaping your chest and upper body, saying a silent thank you for your military service, or whatever it was that caused you to take such good care of yourself. My hands continued applying soap all over your body but, to your dismay, skipped your cock completely and continued down your legs to your feet. As I always say, you live by the sword, you die by the sword.
When I was done with the front of your body, I turned you around and started on the back. It was difficult to pace myself and not just go directly to your ass, but I had to torture you as you had done to me. When it was time to apply the soap there, you spread your legs slightly. I took this opportunity to caress your balls from behind, causing you to moan rather loudly. Excellent! You turned around and kissed me, your horizontal dick poking around my pelvis, trying to find its place. All in due time.
As we continued kissing, I reached down to stroke your cock, making sure to soap it well. I gave it a little hand job but, based on previous experience, figured I probably couldn’t make you come in the shower.
Then again, the hand job had a very dramatic effect. I was surprised to find you rock-hard after just a few minutes, which could have been due to one of two things. Either I give an amazing hand job, or you are a total pushover. Methinks it is the latter. In any event, I wasn’t sure you’d make it out of the shower without shooting your load, and I decided you should come on my back. So I turned to face the wall, and steadied myself with my hands against it. I spread my legs and reached behind me to find your steely rod. I placed it in the crack of my ass, and you seemed pleased with my choice. There was plenty of soap to make it slick, and you squeezed the sides of my cheeks together as you slid up and down.
“Do you want me to come?” you asked. “Do you want to feel me shoot all over you?”
“Oh, yeah, come for me, baby,” I replied. “You make me so hot.”
After a few more strokes, each one pushing you closer and closer, I felt your readiness and stroked your balls. At last you let go, moaning my name as you painted my lower back with your sweet cum. I wished I could have seen (and tasted) the results, but I thought this was worth it, as I suspected it was among your favorite ways to let loose.
You slumped against the wall of the shower, spent but, hopefully, not totally useless. I wasn’t done with you.
After a brief recovery, you silently soaped your juices off my back and shut the water off. You reached for a towel and gently dried me, and I returned the favor when you were done. You took my hand and led me to the bed, turned down the covers and kissed me. You backed me down into the bed and got in after me, lying on top of me as we continued kissing. This was the naked hug, what I’d been waiting for since that first hug you gave me that started it all. Call me biased, but it seemed to me this one was much better.
We kissed for a while longer, and then you decided it was time to move southward. You did this so slowly, using your lips and tongue to trace your way down my body, that I started to wonder what exactly you were waiting for. Somewhere around my belly button, I began moaning loudly, feeling the ever-increasing heat from my pussy and unable to control myself. You got quite the kick out of that.
“Are you feeling hot,” you teased?
“So hot,” I responded. “You are so fucking sexy.”
“Will you play with yourself for me?” you asked. “Please?”
In response, I put my index finger to your lips, and you took it in your mouth. Because you had done such an excellent job of cleaning me, I needed a little help with moisture, but this was definitely a temporary condition. I removed my finger from your mouth, spread my legs and found my clit. “Fuck yeah,” you said, and it puzzled me that you were so turned on by something that happens on a regular basis.
As I rubbed, my pussy got wetter and wetter. The naked hug and the kisses that followed had done the trick. I dipped a finger inside my snatch, which nearly sent you over the edge, and continued rubbing. While I did this, I thought of our shower, and how much I wanted to suck your cock, and these thoughts brought me closer to the edge. When you heard the sounds of my impending orgasm, you started talking. “Come on, baby – come for me. Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels so fucking good,” I said. “My pussy is so hot for you.” And with that, I lost all control. Technicolor waves of ecstacy poured over me, radiating throughout my entire body, with you in that coveted front row seat.
I had told you previously that I was capable of multiple orgasms, and I thought you might be interested in witnessing this phenomenon. Once I was sufficiently recovered, I silently maneuvered myself to straddle your head with my legs, giving you perfect access to my clit, and a pretty interesting place to put your hands. For some reason I can’t understand – maybe it was pity for the vertical nature of your dick – I simultaneously took you into my mouth, effecting the perfect sixty-nine position. Even though I don’t usually like this, because it distracts us both from our respective goals, in this case I felt it was completely appropriate and, in fact, the right thing to do.
Your tongue began to caress between my legs, alternately thrusting inside me like a miniature cock, then playing with my swollen clit. You weren’t kidding when you said you lick a mean pussy.
Meanwhile, your steely rod felt so good sliding in and out of my mouth. My hands worked in concert with my mouth and tongue, making sure this was an interlude you’d never forget.
Due to the incendiary nature of events, it was unlikely I’d last long. And you, Mr. Pushover, seemed not so far from the edge yourself. “I think you should come first,” I said. No argument from you, so I focused my attention on getting you off, until I could feel in your balls that it was about to happen. I pulled off so you could watch yourself shoot, my mouth open just enough to catch your cum, telling you how much I wanted to taste you. Just like you said you like it. When you were done, it was my turn. I let you know when I was about ready, and when I came, your tongue stayed on my throbbing clit until you were certain I was done. Nice touch.
We agreed, that was one hell of a workout.