9781618856357HavingItAllStorm

by Troy Storm

  “Dammit!” He spun on his bare butt. “At least—if we’re going to fucking go at each other—do it in the den on the rug! And what about your hand?”

  “My fucking hand is fine!”

  Chad twisted it.

  “Aaagh!! You goddamn asshole!”

  The agile young athlete neatly lifted the shirt and undershirt and pulled Stephen’s arms up, effectively locking his arms behind his head, as the older man yelled in pain and flailed his legs.

  Chad stared at the flopping mass between the hairy, still muscular thighs. With a resigned grunt, he released the captured arms with a toss of his muscled arm. “Let’s stop acting like a couple of my dumbass students and go do what we’ve got to do.”

  Stephen scrambled to his feet, yanking off the shirt and undershirt. “Get into the bedroom.”

  “What?”

  “Get into the bedroom.”

  Chad hesitated. “But, we never…”

  “Well, we are now. You and me. Move.”

  “Okay, but we don’t go in there mad.”

  “What?”

  “We don’t go in there mad.”

  Stephen stared at the determined face. Red from the tussle. Clear-eyed over his set jaw. He saw a reflection from way back. A blurry screen shot sharpening into focus. A memory moment. He reached for the memory’s shoulders.

  Chad pulled back. “You gonna kiss me again?”

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “Well…okay…but don’t do it mad.”

  Stephen did as he was told.

  A few minutes later, having gotten through the first awkward preliminaries without too much snarking, they lay in Stephen and Syble’s bed face to crotch, face to crotch, Chad industriously attempting to do his duty.

  He gagged and came up gasping again, then with a determined grunt thrust Stephen’s dick back in his mouth.

  Stephen sighed, willing himself to get hard. But, annoyed by the seemingly endless succession of Chad’s gag reflexes, an erection could not be willed into being. And though the young man’s mouth was pleasurable, the possibility of imminently needed resuscitation somewhat hampered what Stephen had hoped might be an automatic response when his dick was presented to the young man’s oral orifice. After all, he had watched gay porn. It had not disgusted him. But Stephen had never learned CPR.

  The massive flaccid column of meat normally held in check by two jock straps which he held in his grip not six inches from his face wasn’t on autopilot either.

  One doesn’t often get to contemplate one’s wife’s lover’s piece de resistance so intimately, he grimly noted, much less to put piece to mouth. It was a fine specimen, worthy to be part of the young man’s array of formidable physical equipment. Stephen’s dick might be longer, sleeker, and more proportioned for penetration, but Chad’s thick pole, topped with a mighty mushroom cap of a battering ram, must make for a powerful thrust into gulping female tissues.

  In full ramrod mode, it would probably tear a resoundingly pleasurable hole in some poor sucker’s ass, too.

  Stephen brought the thing to his face and licked at the bead of clear viscosity he had been able to squeeze from the seemingly inert shaft.

  Instantly Chad jerked…and gagged again.

  Stephen thumped him on the head.

  “Ow!”

  “Let’s take a break.”

  “We just got started.”

  Stephen climbed out of bed. “I need to take a piss.”

  “That’s fucking romantic. No wonder…”

  “Been awhile since you’ve done this, huh?” Stephen called from the bathroom.

  “I’ve never done this.”

  “Well, well. A same-sex virgin. Okay. Your technique is forgiven.”

  “No, I mean I’ve never done…this…69 thing, y’know, doing it at the same time.”

  “We decided it would move things along.”

  “Yeah. We did.”

  “So you have sucked cock before?”

  “Well…yeah. You know, college. You get a little drunk and you land in bed. And if there are no willing broads around…”

  “I know the drill.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Seems I got a lot drunk and the whole frat landed in me. Walked funny for a couple of days, but other than that no permanent scars. Other than it made me very leery of liquor. And except for the couple of frat brothers who followed me around panting and pleading for a couple of weeks until their cheerleader chicks starting coming through regularly.” He flushed the toilet and came out of the bathroom. “Apparently, I have a very pleasurable, penetrable ass. Or did.”

  Chad was sitting on the side of the bed, wide-eyed, his leg up. He seemed to have been morosely picking at a toe. “What if we’re not able to go through with this?”

  “We’ll be able. Lay back. Let me try the rubbing thing again."”

  Chad glowered and put his leg down. “You’ll fucking get me all ticklish again. Makes my skin crawl.”

  “Well, maybe you can help me get the right touch, meathead. Talk me through it. Tell me what works and what doesn’t. That’s one thing that makes us different from doing it with most dames. Guys don’t have to do all that cooing. We can just communicate. And not just leave everything to Mama nature.”

  “I’m not used to talking during sex.”

  “I used to make her laugh. She hated it…my making jokes. I loved what happened in her…inside when she laughed. And especially when she tried not to.” What seemed his former life peeked through for a moment, though it quickly faded.

  “I guess my mouth is not her…inside.” Chad said it flatly. Respectfully.

  “Your mouth is not Syble’s pussy, but it’s got possibilities.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Feels good. We’ll work on it later, but now I want to feel you up.”

  “Why?” The young pile of muscles flopped back on the bed, resigned. “What’s so great about feeling my body?”

  “Chad. For God’s sake. You’re an athlete. Your main focus is on your body. Don’t you even appreciate what you’ve achieved? As much as I hate to admit it to a cheating face, you are one fantastic looking guy. Your body is…great…maybe even a work of art. To get the chance to feel it, to put my hands on it, to explore it as much as I want, that's pretty damn unique. Guys don’t…straight guys don’t normally get to appreciate our…guys’…uniqueness.

  “To be able to feel Syble, isn’t that an amazing honor? Don’t you have a sense of touch? A sense of flesh? The wonder of flesh? Sometimes, we don’t even screw. I just…run my hands over her. And she just feels me up. Or we used to. If it makes you itchy, asshole…well, fucking work with me.”

  Chad raised his head, perplexed.

  “A work of art?”

  “What have you been trying to turn it into with all that working out? A pile of crap?” Stephen shoved him back on the bed and lifted Chad’s legs to swing the sturdy body around, following the action to climb over and kneel between his legs.

  He began stroking Chad’s thighs. “You sports types get a lot of massages, don’t you? Man, I would give a nut to be able to get a great massage once or twice a week.”

  “One of your nuts makes two of mine,” Chad grumbled, on his back, legs spread, beginning to relax. “You wouldn’t even miss it. Nah. Massages always felt a little…weird. We had a class in that sports medicine stuff but, I told you, it was mostly books. Not much hands on. That feels good.”

  Stephen’s hands glided up the muscular inner thighs, molding the solid packs of tissue, pressing firmly along the muscular ranges leading to his crotch. Chad arched his hips for more access. “Yeah, really nice. Maybe, just a little more pressure. Oh, yeah, that’s it. Press those knuckles in.”

  “Don’t even think about sex. Just think about what a great body you’ve achieved. How those muscles work together. What great coordination you’ve got. What an example you are.”

  The coach snorted quietly. “Example? I doubt if those high school dor
ks ever think about what might be under my sweat suit.”

  “Are you serious? They’re teenagers. There’s stuff happening to their bodies that’s driving them nuts. They probably never don’t think about what’s under your sweat suit. And that’s probably what scares the shit out of them, especially the guys. They’ll never measure up. Why even try. They’re so screwed up now they can hardly get their sneakers on the right foot.”

  Stephen’s hands glided over the beautifully undulating landscape of the young man’s hips, his thighs, his knees, his calves, his ankles. His fingers tugged at Chad’s toes, encasing each with pressure tips that first stretched, then compacted the size ten bones.

  Chad was quiet. “But they’ll grow out of it. I did.”

  “Do you ever tell them that? Throw a little bone their way?”

  A long silence. “No.”

  “Speaking of bones being thrown.” Stephen gripped Chad’s dick and firmly pumped it a couple of times popping the purple, gulping head out of his fist. “Later, big dude, we’ll get to you later. When your little pea-brained buddy has finally stopped fighting. Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking shop. It’s not my shop, anyway. I don’t have a shop anymore. Poor ole me.” Stephen chuckled. “Nothing to do but have sex day and night. Pore ole Stevie.”

  “Damn, man, that feels really…”

  “Shhhhh.”

  Stephen kneaded Chad’s feet, dragging the tension from him, pulling its tenacious tentacles one by one from the tips of the strong, long toes and flicking it away to evaporate into the atmosphere of the bedroom, which was already heavy with their male aura.

  The older man’s pair of hands launched, in tandem, back up the legs, bypassing the crotch area to circle around the trim hips.

  Leaning forward to work Chad’s shoulders, Stephen arched his butt in the air, his ass cheeks relaxing. He felt the air on his buttery, brown pucker tucked above the rounded fullness of his perineum trembling in sync with the carefully sculpted limbs underneath him. Stephen’s dick dangled, thick and heavy, dollops of precum gathering at the piss slit to balloon and, when overweighted, elongated to string down and splat, soaking into the absorbent cotton sheets, wet with male lubricant.

  Hand over hand, Stephen ironed over Chad’s chest and down his rippling abdominals. The immaculately defined pectorals of the young Olympian rose and fell. Chad’s rib cage expanded, drawing in slow, deep drafts of calming oxygen. The young man’s pecs were a revelation to the older man’s melding palms—rounded and shaped hard flesh, smooth and textured as firm fruitskin, inherently delicious, ripe and unblemished. His nipples, upright, tiny, pink dicks, crowning a slight, beige, cone rise, surrounded by puckered ochre/mocha landing circles, guarded by a ring of fine, curving hairs, pleaded to be plucked, teased, pinched, and rolled. Like Syble’s. Pleaded.

  Chad writhed underneath his fingers. Groaning, the muscular body reacted to each new discovery of the ironing palms, the probing fingers, the plucking fingertips. Stephen’s mouth closed over a tiny nipple and a tongue trilled the peak of flesh. Chad’s deep gutturals rose into a barely audible sigh of utter pleasure. Every nerve ending in the receptive, hard male seemed to rush in waves from the outer extremities to pack the tiny promontories.

  Stephen kissed the tips, curling over them with his tongue, then floated to the bellybutton, and down to the scented pubes. His mouth closed over the turgid, throbbing dick, buckling the young god’s composure. With a feral grunt, Chad’s legs stretched even wider to fold in and lock his gripping thighs around his supplicant’s head, as Syble had so often done with his ass.

  The big corona of Chad’s meat hook nudged against Stephen’s hard palate, greased by the gush of dick lube. Stephen stretched his jaw. The big head lunged deeper in his mouth. His nose drilled into the light puff of hair circling the flared root of Chad’s meat as his face ground into Chad’s groin. The young god’s body tightened and jerked.

  Accompanied by a plaintive, open-mouthed moan, his milk fired.

  Shot after shot of the warm, thick cream coated Stephen’s gut and drained into his stomach. Groggily, gloriously oxygen-deprived, he pulled back, his lips tight around the belching column. His jaws suctioning the manjuice out of Chad’s packed balls, draining the tight, brown baseball of nuts clutching the base of the young man’s engulfed love pole.

  Chad’s flaying limbs collapsed into the mattress, emptied.

  Stephen gently launched himself over the prostrate living sculpture, flattening his hair-dusted, less well-defined body against the young god’s glistening perfection. He swam, dragging his limbs over the matching limbs underneath, grinding his body hard into the supporting one under him. Chad swam back, his perfect chest pounding. His hands landed on Stephen’s butt where his fingers curled to drag his nails over the twin mounds. The top man imagined fiery trails.

  “Damn.” The young god morphed back into the young, bleary-eyed coach.

  “That was a good one. Welcome to the frat house.”

  Stephen, too, dragged in air. Matching waves raced toward his center. Gasping again at the imminent blending, suddenly his fiery body was lifted, turned, topped, and abandoned.

  “What…?”

  Chad’s body jolted from under him to buckle over and fold between Stephen’s shoved-wide legs. His determined mouth closed over the nosecone of Stephen’s throbbing dick. His fists gripped the thickly veined shaft and pumped as his tongue circled and stroked the purple-fleshed end.

  Instantly, Stephen erupted, shooting bolts of boiling mansoup into Chad’s mouth. The nee god, un-coached coach devolved into a gargling, gulping inept blower of men’s pricks, his throat muscles racing to keep pace with the warm, milky ejaculations.

  When all was over, they fell apart, hearts thundering, dicks throbbing in the cool air.

  “I thought you were gonna drown me.” Chad’s gasping laugh was slightly breathless, and definitely wiser.

  “I knew you weren’t going to choke me,” Stephen stated. “My mouth is made for that meat. Between my mouth and Syble’s pussy, your dick may never see the light of day again.”

  His asshole twitched. His colon tightened perceptibly. We’ve got the rest of the week, he silently promised them both. You will be more than challenged.

  “Fuck financials.” Chad snorted a short laugh. “You could make a fortune being a male whore.”

  “I am a male whore. In financials. Believe me, I have been well shafted there.”

  Flipping onto his side, Chad bounced up to rest his chin in his hand, contemplating his new lover. “Do I get to shaft you, too?”

  “My mind locks at the thought, Gargantua. My butthole trembles. Yet my colon yearns, nay begs for the bruising. We’ll see which wins.”

  “You gonna do me?” He was gluttonous.

  Just a tiny drop of that energy, Stephen prayed, oh, god of my loins. Just a tiny drop of that fathomless ability to see only now. And the loin god replied, you have a gut full of the finest protein to stoke you. Up to you, financial ho, to see what the young can teach the more mature. Well, Stephen concluded lecturing himself, there you are, old man, clasp this hot dude’s sublime ejection mechanism to your mouth with hoops of steel and keep on a sucking.

  Chad snuggled against Stephen’s side, nuzzling and adjusting his limbs for maximum contact.

  “Man, is this different. You and me. Guys. I never really…Flesh…Y’know? That flesh thing? This may work out, huh?” he asked, his young voice filled with hope.

  “May.”

  Stephen reached to feel. The young man”s living marble meat hook was still at the ready for him to hang his own hard on. The young god also reached and dragged his finger across Stephen’s lips.

  “You kiss good. I mean, you know, like for a guy.”

  “Thanks. You’re good to kiss.”

  A final squirming snuggle and Chad settled against him, content.

  They slept the sleep of the converted.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hey, Steve, you wanna come
shower with me?” Chad called from the doorway of the master bath. “You can scrub my back with that Brillo pad chest armor you’re wearing. Tonight,” the young man’s morning bright voice dropped to a sultry promise, “you can scrape the rest of me with that other curly pad.”

  “Oh God. What time is it? Chad, I don’t wake up all that rise-n-shinish. It takes a while to get these forty-year-old brain cells functioning. And that less-than-Brillo decorating you is delicate fleece, hard young stud, so I don’t see…that it would…” Stephen’s giant yawn mid-sentence totally blocked his train of thought, which drifted lazily around his stretching body as he snuggled back in, face down, pulling the coverlet up to softly caress his warm, naked backside.

  Chad smirked and strode across the room—his morning dong dinging nicely from side to side, Stephen noticed out of the corner of his eye. He made an effort to grab the golden horn as it came within reach.

  Chad hopped back. “Man, you’re thirty-eight! Think young! You’ve got decades ’til you’re over-the-hill. Or at least a couple of years.” He smartly whisked the coverlet back and briskly slapped sleepyhead’s bottom.

  “Um, mind if I just lay here and take my punishment,” Stephen grinned sexily, lids heavy. Another yawn. “But I warn you, a sound thrashing always puts me to sleep.” His hand shot for Chad’s dick again.

  Nicely sidestepping, the grinning young man reached to grab Stephen’s hand. “Maybe I should try another tactic.” Pressing his face to the captured palm, he slowly licked, starting his tongue down the ski slope of the suddenly alert arm, then curled into the quickly awakening older man’s elbow, around his biceps, skirted his armpit, make a quick side trip over the tingling Brillo pad landscape to an alert nipple, making Stephen revolve toward the young coach. The slathering mouth shot down his side over his hips, tantalizingly bypassing the waving dick, and then suddenly arced back around to greet Stephen’s furry ass with fully open lips and a lapping tongue as Stephen rolled back onto his stomach.