by Ellee Hill
His voice was a growl and a moan and it resonated as he shot his wad, thick ropes of jizz briefly luminescent in the neon lights outside. After a few calming breaths he sat up on the bed, still playing with his dick, his eyes closed and his mouth pulled back in a languorous smile. He was beautiful, relaxed; all I wanted to do was toss the phone I’d forgotten I held and go to him and lick the cum off his chest and kiss him until he forgot his own mother’s name.
Oh God, how I wanted that man.
I stepped forward as he looked up, momentarily confused. “Randy… no, Ricky, right?”
“Ahh, how quickly they forget. I would have joined in, but I wanted to watch instead.”
He eyed the phone in my hand. “Did you…?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “You were just so beautiful in this light… and I love to watch you cum.” I settled next to him and bent my head toward his chest. My tongue flicked out as I tasted the jizz on his chest. It was different than before. Sweeter, somehow. A large hand lifted my chin. Our eyes met in the dark and then I felt his lips on mine.
“I’ll get you for taking pictures, you’ll see.”
Somehow, it didn’t sound like a threat. “Make sure you do.”
I WOKE up next to Sam a few hours later. He was still asleep, his dark hair a stark contrast against the pale gray sheets. He was sprawled as though he was unaccustomed to sharing space, pushing me to the side. I pushed back a bit in a bid to reclaim some real estate. My gesture provoked a mild, sleepy growl. He grabbed the blanket and turned on his side, away from me.
Samuel Wright is a blanket thief.
I guess I deserved my fate, considering that I stole images of him during such a private moment. What goes around, comes around. The cool morning air felt a bit too brisk with the window having been open overnight; I shivered and rolled out of bed to use the bathroom. Then I returned, spooning Sam from behind, trying to get some coverage under the edge of the dark-blue comforter.
“What?” groaned a sleepy voice.
“Can I have some blanket?”
He flopped the other way, engulfing me under a cozy tent of fabric and sleepy, warm flesh. I burrowed my nose into his shoulder and inhaled his musky scent.
I bet he smells better now than after his shower.
My action didn’t pass unnoticed.
“Mmm?”
I inhaled again, my hands skimming over his lovely form, my morning wood springing back to life.
“Ricky?” No longer drowsy, he leaned into me, nosing my hair to the side. I felt warm, soft lips on my neck. “What time is it?”
“Early,” I groaned. “You almost pushed me off the bed, and then you stole the covers.”
“So sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Maybe I can make it up to you?”
“Maybe,” I exhaled, hoping my morning breath wasn’t too terrible. I felt his hand skim up my bent leg and across my hip, turning me on my back, exposing me. He palmed my morning salute.
“I may be the blanket thief, but you seem to have immortalized a private moment, Rick. Perhaps I shall have to punish you for that.”
His hand stroked my vulnerable inner thighs with the gentlest touch as his forearm skimmed my most sensitive parts as though by sheer accident. An involuntary gasp escaped my lungs.
“Maybe I should do something special….” Clever fingers drew a fire trail along the jut of my hipbone; I whimpered.
“What, Rick? Were you going to say something?”
I widened my eyes, looking at him, ready to open my mouth. Whatever I was going to say was wiped from my mind as his hand slipped back down where I wanted it, stroking my hard length with his sensitive, soft palm.
“Sam!” I whimpered, bucking up into his touch. He let go of me and tucked me back under the sheet and the blanket I had coveted only moments before.
“My turn to be a tease,” he said, his eyes now alert and full of mischief. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed.
“Samuel!” My voice said it all.
Disappointment. Outrage. Frustration.
“What? I’ll be back… eventually.” He disappeared into the bathroom and did his business, and when he came out, he was alert and gorgeous. His half-hard alter ego stirred to greet me as his eyes took in the sight of me, sprawled wantonly across his bed, wanting, waiting.
He pounced.
I moved to roll him under me, but he had the advantage of both size and surprise and the covers got in my way. Seizing his positional advantage, he perched on my chest, his hands twirling my hair, smiling.
“What would you like me to do, Ricky?”
I startled, not expecting the question.
“Ah… anything goes?”
“Well… almost anything. Remember, first date and all.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
So much for him riding me.
Well then. How about my special fantasy number two? I flushed at the thought of saying it out loud, my words frozen under his arctic-blue gaze.
“Rick?” His expression betrayed amusement. He watched me swallow, then sneeze in response to my sudden arousal, helpless with my massive hard-on pointing north like a compass needle. “Just whisper it,” he said, his voice a sensuous rumble as his ear descended to my mouth.
I did.
He sat up, considering.
“We have the time, I think, to do this right. I’ll do as you ask, as long as you do as I say.” The promise of unimaginable pleasure made me nod without even thinking about it.
MY BUTT was so close to the end of the bed, I thought I’d slide off the towel Sam had placed under me. My knees were bent, planted at the very edge of the mattress.
“I want you to hold your ankles with your hands, Rick.”
Dubious, I reached for one ankle, then the other. The position left me curiously open and vulnerable. I tried to do a sit-up to peek at what Sam was planning to do, but with my hands affixed to my ankles, all I saw was the top of his hair.
“Just relax. This will feel… different. Just go with it, okay?”
“Okay,” I sighed, my sigh turning to a gasp as I felt a warm, wet washcloth on my thighs, my erect length… everywhere.
A slew of questions were at the tip of my tongue, but before I had a chance to let them loose, I heard a curious swishing sound. My ears strained where my eyes wouldn’t serve. A cool softness touched the inside of my leg, the wet, tickly sensation circling in toward my perineum. Startled, I let go of one ankle.
What the…?
The sensation ceased.
“Ricky. Trust me and hold on. You stop, I stop.” Samuel was barely suppressing the amusement under his patient façade. Groaning, I grasped my ankle again, spreading my knees out, resigned to the awkward position.
The moisture returned, smooth and slick and tickly, smothering my tight testicles, laving my soft, tender spots and my crack, going all the way down.
I gasped, the foreign, erotic sensation making me writhe.
“Saaaaam… what are you… what is that?”
“A brush made of badger hair,” he said, and I could just hear the smirk on his face.
Badger… badger….
I’ve heard of badger hair being used for something before, something luxurious and expensive… my mind wasn’t making much sense of it under the onslaught of delicious ecstasy.
As though from afar, I heard a small splash of water. His hand stroked the vulnerable skin of my inner thigh, holding it steady.
“Whatever you feel, don’t move, Ricky.”
“Hnn….” My agreement was but a whimper.
Then there was a cold sensation, then an eerily familiar tug of the skin—and now the softness and the somewhat familiar odor made sense.
“ Sam… Samuel! Are you shaving me?”
“Shh… don’t move, Rick.”
Another splash of water.
Another tug on the skin; his holding hand changed position and my dick began to wilt as his razor moved closer to my balls.
“Sam�
�.” My voice held an edge of panic.
“Stay still. It’s a good safety razor. Fresh blade, just for you.”
“Aghn!” I felt tension in my arms, in my legs, as I felt him banish my lush, blond curls from my most private place. Front to back, side to side.
Threatening. It was definitely threatening.
Yet intimate.
And I—well, at least I was pretty sure of this—I trusted him, not even knowing why.
Very, very slowly I started to feel myself relax.
Then the warm washcloth returned, soft and… and I could feel it so much better. Bare and hairless, every touch felt more intense, electric, stimulating.
My morning salute began to resume its proud stature.
“You can let go, if you want to see.” Sam sounded uncommonly pleased with himself. I stood up to look down. I was hairless, groomed except for a small nest at the base of my dick. I felt down under; everything was incredibly soft and smooth.
A small tray next to the bed held a bowl of water, an old-fashioned shaving brush with solid shaving soap… and his new razor.
“How could you?” I almost wailed, feeling blindsided. “And why?”
“Because I like the hair out of the way. Now, if you still want what you had requested before…?” He cocked an eyebrow; there was a question in his eyes.
I nodded, now hesitant, uncertain what other surprises I could expect from him.
“Well then, lie down and hold on to your ankles.”
No. Not again!
Yet… being at the mercy of Samuel Wright, as scary as it had been, hadn’t produced any lasting harm, so I settled on the towel once again, spread my legs, bent my knees, and held onto my legs.
Immediately and without warning, an assault of a new, intense sensation made me quiver; holding on became an agonizing distraction, yet I didn’t dare let go. If I’d let go, he’d stop. I whimpered as my hands and thighs quivered, threatening to cramp with effort.
Wet.
Wet and soft… and warm.
Smooth.
Sam’s tongue attacked the freshly bared skin. I gasped; I whined; I tried not to move.
I wanted to thrust.
His tongue massaged the soft skin under my balls; he ran up and over them, avoiding the lone copse of pale curls at my base.
I felt a bolt of searing pleasure as he licked me from base to tip. Then back down. Around the head; his lips parted as though for a kiss, his moist heat engulfing me.
I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Sam… I’m… I’m…!”
Firm fingers grasped my base, squeezing, waiting. Giving me time. I breathed, my eyes tearing up, still in the sweet, dizzying rapture.
As my breath steadied, I felt him let go. The sinuous, serpentine tongue slithered down, teasing my shaft with the lightest touch, tickling the tight, delicate skin of my sac, then descending lower….
I moaned.
And even lower, swiping over my entrance, then circling around it. The warm, wet tip pressed against my sensitive rosette.
“Saaaam….”
I felt him press against my opening, his tongue making inroads past the tight ring of muscles. He let the tip thrust in and out several times, imitating the action both of us chose to delay. Then he circled around with gentle slowness, causing the thousands of nerve endings to fire almost all at once while I howled in ecstasy. He came back up and engulfed my straining length, stroking his tender lips up and down. I felt his finger play down where his tongue had just been, slick with saliva.
“Watch…” I gasped, suddenly certain I’d be blinded by pleasure itself.
His wet finger pressed against my rear, penetrating with a sudden and a ruthless force. As he thrust in and gave a hard suck, I screamed and exploded, my helpless hands still holding my ankles captive, my hips thus restrained, quivering in a silent rebellion against my own strength.
My eyes were closed shut, the body immobile.
“You can let go, Ricky.”
I tried.
My fingers wouldn’t open and my belly was wet; I felt his hands loosen mine and help me scoot up the bed. I fought hard against the lassitude that threatened to set in, pushing back the sleep that beckoned to reclaim me before my hand could wrap around Samuel’s rigid length.
He growled, thrusting into my palm, hard and fast and impatient. His grip on my shoulder would leave a bruise, but I didn’t care. He spread my legs apart and moved under my thighs, spreading my slick down to those shaved, sensitive parts. I shuddered, and there he was, his cock rubbing against my soft crack, my gently shaved perineum, carefully not hitting my smooth, hairless balls….
“Oh God… oh fuck yeah!”
It felt so entirely amazing. Like lightning in the dark, like a song in the forest—it felt so erotic and sensuous, being able to feel everything, his slightest brush and caress, his contours and the drag-and-thrust of his smooth hardness easily read by my bare, sensitive skin. Our fluids mingled as we lay still, recapturing our breath.
Then the alarm went off.
BREAKFAST was a silent affair. Coffee freshly brewed, instant oatmeal prepared in the microwave with a side of bacon. Flushed even after my shower, I’d glance at Sam over my cup of coffee with cream. My stolen glimpses measured his sculpted, handsome cheekbones, the curvature of his jawline, the firm lips that softened like petals when kissed. The eyes, deep and changeable and impossibly blue, would try to meet mine and every time they succeeded, victorious, I’d flush and glance away. Just being together, like this, was magic.
Little did I know payback was just three days down the road.
LAST night was Sunday—the third night of us sleeping together, not going all the way. Not until we knew more about one another. Yet my groceries found their way to Sam’s refrigerator and pantry, and my spare clothes and one suit and tie now squatted in his closet. The whole situation was complicated. It felt too good to be true, which is why there was no use trying to force sleep to come. I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower. The hot water was a relief, easing my morning aches and pains: the crick in the neck, the slightly pulled groin that I’d incurred during our bedroom gymnastics.
The events progressed at an alarming rate. I ran into a guy in a supermarket. We had drinks, and dinner, and we spent the night and then another and another. It was fireworks all the way through. I would have thought a weekend like that would leave even guys like us sexually exhausted, but the opposite seemed to hold.
The cold water, which always followed the hot, woke me up, infusing me with extra energy and helped me deal with my morning wood. Monday was a workday and there was no time for a dalliance. Washed, shampooed, and shaved, I stepped out and reached for a towel.
Sam’s towel.
I felt my chest fill with excitement once again, knowing that I was drying myself off with a towel he had used before. The warm, happy feeling threatened to awaken my libido again. As I patted my tender bits dry, a strange coarseness brushed the back of my hand.
Stubble??
I bent over and pulled my dick out of the way to have a better look. Sure enough – what had been shaven so smooth on Friday had started growing back. I had a scratchy, two-day beard on my most sensitive parts. I clenched my butt cheeks together experimentally; tiny little pricks impaled my tender flesh. Turning toward the full-length mirror on the wall, I lifted my jewels to take a better look.
My balls looked like two yellow hedgehogs. You know, the little African kind some people like to keep as pets. My hand skimmed the area; the perineum was waiting to tangle with my hedgehogs, who were sure to score first blood.
That asshole.
Pain shot through my back as I straightened from the awkward position. Now thanks to Sammy-asshole, who had done it all on his own and without even bothering to warn me of the consequences, my whole groin itched with regrowth. I considered my options: I could wait a few days. There must be some kind of an anti-itch cream for these things. Like an aftershave—except th
e thought of aftershave down there had me wincing with pain.
How about shaving it? The logistics of reach and visibility were considerable. I’ve nicked myself shaving my face, and I had been able to see all the parts the razor was touching at the time. That option was out, definitely.
I could ask Samuel to shave me, but if I did that, he’d see it as an invitation and, in the wake of a morning hedgehog attack, I didn’t feel exactly hospitable.
HAVING decided to just suffer for a day and think about it, I hung the towel and got out of the bathroom. Struggling into my clothes, my hedgehog handicap became even more apparent. My boxers did absolutely nothing to protect my tender skin from the coarse, prickly bristles. Then the alarm went off again and Sam killed it, turning on the morning news. His eyes drifted toward me, sweet and satisfied.
“Good morning, Ricky. Hey… you’re already dressed?”
“Half-dressed,” I growled.
He sat up and looked me up and down. “What’s wrong?”
“This!” I yelled, dropping my trousers and my briefs, showing off the unintended consequences of his actions. “And now I’m stuck, and it’s your fault, you thoughtless jerk!”
He ignored my insults and slithered toward me on his belly, taking a closer look.
“Wow, dude, that looks really painful.” His warm fingers slid up my soft, inner thigh skin all the way to my hedgehogs. “Spread your legs a little, would you?”
I did, letting him examine the damage.
“You’re all red down there, Ricky. You can’t leave them like this.”
“Any suggestions?” I sighed in defeat.
“Well, you tell me, Ricky. What feels better, hair or no hair?” His voice was serious and so were his eyes, so I gave his question the consideration it deserved.