_Anthology - Mr. Right Now

by _Anthology

  Bones turned into pudding, Ryan collapsed onto the now very sticky bench as Marc gave a few last hard thrusts and came with an animalistic howl. His hips gradually slowed and stopped, the last shivers of sensation ebbing as he slumped down.

  Ryan made a vaguely pained noise, feeling squashed. After a moment, Marc took a deep breath and slowly pulled out. He moved away, then carefully turned Ryan over and pulled him down onto the mat on the floor. They held eye contact for a moment, both with the same satiated smiles, before Marc ducked his head and licked Ryan’s stomach clean.

  “Mmm... That was brilliant,” he murmured as Marc finished, tugging him back up to lie next to him.

  Marc nodded.

  “Knew it would be... What were you waiting for?” he asked. Marc was silent for so long that Ryan wondered if he’d dozed off. Quietly, Marc answered, “My only other time with a guy was a pretty bad experience, when I was just a kid. Never thought I’d want to give it another go...” He sighed, and then chuckled. “But fuck, Ryan, who could resist you? Once you’ve set your mind on someone, that’s the end of it; I’ve never been so thoroughly seduced before.”

  “Well, it’s good thing I did, right? You seemed pretty clueless,” Ryan laughed. “But are you always so silent when you fuck? I like your sexy voice,” he said, wiggling and pressing his reawakening erection into Marc’s firm thigh to make it clear that he wasn’t even close to finished for the evening.

  Marc rolled over and kissed him quickly, before pulling back with a grin, “I think you just rendered me speechless, sweetheart. Let’s go back to my place and see if I can do the same to you.”

  Alix Bekins Alix lives in the coastal mountains of Northern California with her partner and their dog. She’s been writing for as long as she can remember in a variety of genres, including fiction, erotica, poetry, and nonfiction and has even managed to get some of it published from time to time.

  Sexuality is the cornerstone of her life and work and always has been, through two degrees and several life plans. Her work and writing focus on the themes of self-discovery and coming out, with a healthy dose of kink on the side.

  Alix is pretty sure she’s the only person in the world who wears a plastic Viking helmet as a thinking cap when she battles Writer’s Block. She always wins.

  Visit Alix’s blog at http://alix_bekins.livejournal.com/

  Know When to Spread ’em

  Catt Ford

  “HEY, Jay, how’s it hanging?” Bill asked, smiling mockingly at

  me as if he knew just how low they were hanging. How the fuck did HR tap into the central casting department of my horniest dreams to hire men for this fucking company? It wasn’t fair. Where were the paunchy, balding guys I saw on the subway every day, wearing their pants and ties too short and their belts too tight? I wouldn’t have had a bit of trouble concentrating around coworkers like that.

  Instead, the three guys I worked most closely with could all get a job starring in fuck films if the advertising business went bust. In fact, they didn’t know it, but they already worked overtime starring in the private porn of my busy fantasy life.

  Bill stood there in my doorway, grinning at me, his shoulders straining at the seams of his shirt. “What’re you doing for lunch?”

  “Busy,” I said tersely, scowling at my monitor, resolutely keeping my gaze off his crotch.

  “How about a drink after work?” he suggested, although not in the way I would have liked him to mean it. “Got a date, sorry.”

  “Okay then, see you in the meeting later.”

  He left. Finally. I got up and shut the door. I didn’t exactly advertise that I was gay at work, but you would think he would have caught on by now, seeing as I never brought a date to company functions.

  I sat down and contemplated my schedule. I had just gotten out of one intensely boring meeting, had a few hours open for lunch, and then was doomed to another intensely boring meeting that would eat up most of the afternoon.

  My boss liked to hear himself talk. Not that he ever said anything worth hearing, but he paid me to listen, so the least I could do was show up ready and willing.

  The problem was that I was so fucking horny I knew I’d never be able to focus. I really did have a date tonight, with a guy that I’d already fucked once. He had proven to be fun enough that when he called, I agreed to meet him again for ‘drinks’.

  But I was horny now. I could go to the men’s room and jack off. Or I could hop online, scan Manhunt, and see if I could score a lunchtime fuck date.

  Okay, Manhunt wins, hands down. Or maybe Craigslist. I wasn’t in the mood to put up my own ad, which meant I had to sort through a million others (maybe I’m overstating it just a bit) with blurry snapshots of pimply asses and anonymous dicks. Hungry bottoms, total tops, cocksuckers, bi-guys, daddies looking for sons, sons looking for generous daddies, boring as fuck all.

  Where was the no strings attached lunch hookup of my dreams? I could say I’m ‘versatile’ but I don’t spread my cheeks for just anyone. I’m pretty much a top even though I’ve traveled to the bottom on occasion. And I like to think I can find something sexy about just about any man, although why this one guy put a shot of his flabby, hairy butt online for the world to see, I’ll never know.

  I back-clicked off his ad immediately. I’m a cockslut, I admit it, but I’m also a pretty nice guy. I eat right, don’t smoke and work out every day except Sunday because I usually need to sleep in after a wild weekend. And I try to make all of them wild. So I guess you could say I’m a little jaded. For some reason, I was looking for something different; I knew what I was getting tonight on my date, so I wanted a thrill, something… different for lunch.

  Being in advertising, I’ve learned to appreciate good photography. Being gay and in constant need of dick, I’ve also learned not to expect good photography on internet hookup sites.

  So when I clicked on his ad, I was intrigued and pleasantly surprised. The keywords were: DL hook up, 38, muscles. I’m a pretty slim guy, in good shape (see my workout schedule above), ‘trim’ you might say with no love handles and my ass is round and high. But what I love most is fucking a muscle man. And a muscle man on the down low, well, I couldn’t believe my luck. I figured once I clicked into the ad, it would say something about total top or looking to get sucked off, no recip.

  Instead, it said; Married guy, likes to walk on the guy side every now and then. Body builder. NSA lunch hookup, let’s see what develops. Okay, first off he’s straight, or virtually straight. There’s something so hot about fucking a married straight guy, especially one with muscles. NSA, no strings attached, I’m good there; I don’t need endless phone calls or someone to send me flowers.

  But what got to me was the photo he posted. If it was really him, and not scanned from a magazine, I had just won the jackpot and gone to heaven.

  It was professionally lit and photographed, maybe for his work. It showed very little of his face because he was looking down at his awesomely bunched bicep. The lighting was dramatic and he’d been sprayed down, so his skin was shiny, with droplets of sweat (okay, glycerin, it’s a photography trick) rolling down his hard arm. His cheekbones were scary they were so chiseled, and his lips were sensuous and full.

  There was a tat on his flexed arm, one of those calligraphic oriental letters that everyone says means something uplifting like, future happiness or spiritual awakening, but could just as easily say, ‘my sister walks like a duck’.

  But whatever. Swoon.

  Muscles, tattoos and married. My cock was nudging at my zipper, trying to break out. I told it to quiet down, we hadn’t bagged this one yet.

  I typed in an answer and searched on my laptop for a photo of me, in boxer briefs. It didn’t show my face, just from my left nipple down to my hipbone. The way I was turned, you could see the outline of my erection shadowed under the dark purple fabric, the tip almost popping out the waistband.

  In under a minute, he’d answered my reply and given me his location, s
aying he was at work and couldn’t leave, but it was cool for him to host.

  That was kind of puzzling; what kind of straight guy arranges a lunch hook up at work with a horny gay guy and expects to keep it on the down low? However, that was his problem, mine was getting him bent over and willing.

  I did ask if he wanted to see a face shot of me, but he said no, surprise me. I donned my jacket, shut down my laptop and caught the elevator downstairs. I was lucky, I caught a cab right in front of the building. It was totally worth the fare to have the extra time with this guy. I couldn’t wait.

  The cab dumped me out in front of a large, exclusive gym on the upper east side. Okay, must be where he works. I went inside, wondering just how I was going to locate him, seeing as he hadn’t given me a name or directions.

  And this place was exclusive; if you didn’t have a membership or one of those tryout vouchers, you had to prove your citizenship just to speak to the girl at the front desk, I’d heard all about it from one of my friends.

  But all my worry went for nothing, because he was standing behind the front desk, flirting with the receptionist, who, if I had been straight, I would have been all over her. She was cute.

  I recognized him by his tattoo. He flexed his arm, making the symbol jump. I gasped as he glanced up and I got my first full look at his face. He was fucking gorgeous, black hair, green eyes, full lips, straight perfect nose, and those little dents bodybuilders get on either side of their mouth when they’re down to fucking 3% body fat.

  My mouth dropped open but no words came out. Instead I sort of squeaked. He smiled at me in that superior I’m-sogorgeous-everyone-wants-me way that truly beautiful people have when they know how hot they are.

  “Sorry, Julie, gotta go, my next appointment is here,” Beautiful Muscle Dude said.

  The blonde girl gave me a condescending smirk. “See you later, Steve,” she said throatily. This Adonis couldn’t be called Steve, it was too common for him, I thought as I followed him. He was wearing silk shorts and I could see his awesome gluteus maximus bunch lusciously as he walked. I jammed my hands into my pockets. If he were on the DL, he wouldn’t want to walk through the gym with a man gnawing on his ass hungrily.

  He led the way through a forest of machines, opening the door to a massage room. It was dimly lit, and smelled a little of incense, massage oil and manly sweat. Perfect.

  I wondered if I should rip off my clothes first or his. He smiled at me and locked the door. “You can make all the noise you want, but don’t say anything like, ‘My God, I’ve never seen one so huge. I’m not sure I could explain that away.”

  I promised God that I would believe in him and floss every morning and night if this stud turned out to be hung too, that would be too good to be true. Did I have a fairy godmother pulling strings for me today?

  “I want to fuck you,” I said hoarsely. “You sweet talker, you. And they say romance is dead,” he smirked. “Get your clothes off. You can hang them on the hooks.” He pointed at the back of the door and turned on some sensitive new age music before crossing his massive arms and leaning against the wall to watch me.

  I stripped hurriedly, reveling in his attention. He watched me closely and he seemed to like what he saw, judging by the bulge distending his shorts. I was glad that I’d put in the extra ab work. I might not be in this guy’s weight class but I was firm, lean and toned, enough not to be embarrassed about being naked in front of him.

  He reached out and trailed a finger down my iliac furrow and I shivered. My cock was hard, aching to be buried inside him. I wanted him bent over his massage table, where I could watch the muscles in his shoulders flex and dance while I pounded his ass.

  “Your turn. Strip!” I ordered. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and shoved his shorts down to his ankles, stepping out of them casually, as if he did that with everyone he gave a massage to. Maybe he did for all I knew. His giant snake jumped out, rock solid and standing up against his stomach. I licked my lips. I would have liked to lick his cock instead. Can you say cockzilla? He left his socks and sneakers on. I liked that, it seemed to accentuate his nakedness. That and his wedding ring.

  “I don’t usually let guys fuck me, but you sounded kind of hot,” he said, eyeing my cock eagerly. Even though I was crazy horny, I didn’t want to just bend him over the table and stick my cock up his ass. I like kissing, and I’m curious about people. Did he like his nipples played with hard or soft? What would he sound like when he moaned? Would he suck my tongue into his mouth when I kissed him?

  I stepped closer, reaching for his nipples, pinching them softly between my finger and thumb. We were pretty well matched in height, so I kissed him, closed mouth at first, but he opened his lips, sucking my tongue in softly, wetly. Our tongues tumbled over each other, playfully wrestling back and forth in our mouths.

  I rubbed my thumbs over his nipples, feeling a ripple shudder through his cut abs. It turned out to be a deep moan working its way out and then his hands were on my ass, cupping my cheeks, rubbing them with strong fingers that bit into the muscle.

  It was my turn to groan appreciatively, so I did. He liked it.

  Our cocks were rubbing together. There’s something so masculine about that, two guys with hard cocks trapped between their bellies, feeling skin on skin, with nothing between them. I kept rubbing and pinching his nipples until he let my mouth go.

  “Turn around,” I ordered. He did and gave me another surprise. His ass was breathtaking, stellar. Big round muscular globes, hairless and smooth, his skin perfect. But what really got to me was another tattoo, a Chinese dragon whose wings stretched over the top of his ass cheeks, low enough that it wouldn’t show, even in bikini briefs. The tail curled sinuously into the cleft between his cheeks, as if pointing the way to the gates of gay heaven.

  I moaned with sheer lust and he chuckled. He flexed his cheeks, making the wings flutter as if the dragon was about to take off and fly. I spread his buttocks apart. The tail curled around his asshole, as if it were a target.

  Which it was, for me, not that I needed the extra help finding it.

  “That must have hurt like a sonuvabitch,” I observed respectfully.

  “What’s a little pain? It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he said, a little muffled.

  “Oh, fuck yeah.” I bent and bit each cheek gently, nipping at them hungrily. He put his hands on the table and bent forward at the waist, sticking his ass out toward me. You might not get this but for a skinny guy like me, it’s a total turn on to see a muscular stud like that, every line of his body expressing a submissive desire to get fucked, waiting for me to have at him.

  I bent over him, rubbing my dick between his legs, nudging at his balls. I sniffed his armpits. The clean masculine scent of fresh sweat turned me on and I licked at the silky hair. If I’d had more time, I might have eaten his pits out, but right now I wanted to munch on his ass.

  I slid off him and kept my hand pressed on the middle of his back. He gasped and kind of reared up when he felt my tongue tickling his crack. “What –? Holy fuck,” he moaned, as I slid my tongue in the crease and found his hole.

  He was clean and fresh, as if he’d showered and soaped for me, just a hint of his natural scent under the fragrance of soap. I licked and slobbered and savored every inch of that beautiful valley while he moaned and squirmed for me. When I pointed my tongue and stabbed at his hole, he almost broke my nose rearing back at me he was so aroused. If I’d wanted to, I could have stood up and shoved my cock in without lube and he would have taken it.

  But I never do it without a condom, and I’m not really into hurting people so I stood up panting, saliva dripping from my chin, and asked, “Supplies?”

  He pushed himself up from his position as I wiped at my mouth. His arms were fucking hot, so hard, with tough sinew moving under his smooth, tanned skin.

  “I want to return the favor first,” he murmured, and kissed me. A straight guy, kissing me after I’d had my tongue up his ass. I bet you can
imagine how hot that made me. I could have come right there and then.

  But first, there was his offer. I love sucking cock, getting and giving it. I love fucking. I even love being fucked, by the right man at the right moment. But there is nothing that rocks my world like getting my ass eaten. My knees melted when he said he wanted to tongue me.

  “Where do you want me?” “Lean on the table,” he said, bending me over his massage table. Luckily it didn’t have wheels. That would be important later, you better believe it.

  I bent over obediently, resting my chest on the table. He kicked my feet apart, his hands spreading my cheeks. I shivered when I felt his hot breath waft over my hole. I’m sure it was clenching visibly as I was almost crazy with anticipation.

  And then at last, I felt his tongue, wet and velvety soft against my hole… it’s the most amazing feeling, so hot. The feeling of his tongue probing my ass made me hard as a spike, and I started moaning, my hands gripping the sides of his table as I fought to stay on my feet.

  My brain turned off because I needed all the blood to run things down below. I hoped I wouldn’t simply slide to the floor in a puddle.

  His hands slid over my body and the sure, confident way he handled me melted me as much as the sensation of his tongue licking my pucker. He didn’t let up until I was a whimpering, writhing mess. He stood up, but held me down with one hand planted on my waist, while two fingers invaded me, conquering my resolve to be the one to do the fucking that day.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked weakly, even while I spread my legs farther apart to give his fingers better access. They were thick and beefy, and hitting all the right places inside.