2001-03-06 - 23:50:06
Juices Circling

Juices Circling

It started yesterday in the line-up at the gym's drinking fountain. I was right behind a hunky black guy in a sleeveless blue tee, majestic chiseled arms branching out. When it was his turn, he bent over the metal fountain, that blue tee pulling tight across the tapered expanse of his back, articulating each wondrous peak and ridge. His blue silk knee-length shorts had hidden his posterior assets, globes of steel which pressed out into glorious view as he inclined; while the luscious man slurped, I swooned.

In school I would always let the water fountain run for a few moments before drinking, an inane attempt to sanitize. Especially if someone I didn't like had swilled just before me. Imagining disgusting bits having dribbled back down into the spout, I would let their gunk stream out and down the drain before taking my sip.

Seconds after he swaggered off yesterday, I sucked and sucked and sucked at that metal nipple, thirsty for whatever of his essences might be left there.

***

It continued in the shower after my workout. A loud, friendly "Hey!"; I turned around and there was Mr. Big Dick showering directly across from me. Took me a moment to recognize him, but the knee-length appendage--okay, so I'm exaggerating…slightly--was a dead give-a-way.

Another cutie--pert smooth and soapy buttocks, olive skin--showered there too, oblivious to us as he shampooed his short black hair. Mr. Big Dick and I exchanged pleasantries while we lathered. Smiling and winking and carrying on innocuous 'locker room' conversation, he would occasionally lock his hand around the base of that fat dick, wave at me with it.

Grinning impishly, he bade me adieu, trundled off for his swim.

All the way home, his prodding finger's memory vibrated in my ass.

***

Then Kentaro came over, our first visit in a month. In our own quiet way, we got reacquainted as he shyly showed me 300 photos from his recent trip to Florida, presented me with a souvenir: a wee statue of a manatee. There was one sexy face-pic of him that I begged him to reprint for me; Kentaro's got his hair buzzed very short now and he looks even more delicious.

I winced at the pictures of his birthday celebration; I'd forgotten he turned 23 while he was down there, while I was in Toronto. Oh well, he wasn't fazed by my forgetting; I'll make it up to him…somehow.

"So, how many guys?" asked Kentaro later, smiling at me.

"Huh?"

"How many guys did you fuck in Toronto?"

I told him. "Does that bother you?" I asked.

It didn't bother him; he was just curious, he said. He soon made me understand just how curious he was; Kentaro wanted to hear all the gory details. This felt strange only for the first few minutes; I soon enjoyed giving him a blow-by-blow of the first night of my trip.

I wouldn't have asked otherwise, but I did then inquire about him. No, Kentaro hadn't had sex with anybody since we last met. I took that as a good sign that he might be horny.

He was horny, but he was also extremely uptight about having sex with me right then and there, knowing he'd be meeting J.C. and Kyle for the first time 90 minutes later when they came up from downstairs to watch Queer As Folk with us.

"They will hear your bed make noise," he protested. "I could not meet them after!"

I stopped his mouth with a kiss. (I've always wanted to use that line, eh?)

Let's just say that by the time--ten or so minutes later--my bed began its whine, Kentaro didn't much care. Speaking of, this beautiful young man dissolves into such an arousing, drooly whine when I manhandle him. Oi. I've never probed desire's brutality quite like this before. This mesmerizing frenzy we keep enacting barely resembles S&M, but fuck, does he ever bring out--and enjoy--some elemental aggression in me.

My face fabulously glazed, my tongue buried in his sweet butt, Kentaro piped up: "My ass needs your dick."

My bed got a lot creakier. As he rode me, I felt those mounded, taut asscheeks bouncing off my hipbones as much as I did the fabulous prod. I'd never seen his dick so hard; I spat noisily in my hand, grabbed hold. Kentaro's eyes were dazed as he grimaced and heaved overtop me; his body's urgent rhythm soon brought him off between my grip--his first orgasm with me--as his inmost circle clutched and relaxed, clutched and relaxed. He collapsed down onto me; I held him wordlessly for a long time before removing and finishing myself off resoundingly.

Anticipating the post-orgasmic return of Kentaro's self-consciousness --J.C. and Kyle, who we could hear chatting and watching TV the whole time, were expected upstairs in ten minutes--I hurried Kentaro into the shower. Within those ten minutes, we made ourselves presentable. If J.C. and Kyle had heard our celebrating, they were tactful enough not to tease.

Kentaro had never seen--or even heard of--Queer As Folk. Shy as he was around these new people, he didn't voice much reaction until after they left, but he was totally blown away and excited by the show. He also quite liked J.C. and Kyle, set up his camera on my TV stand to take a time-delayed picture of the four of us afterwards.

This yummy, sweet-sweet guy is going back to Japan in five weeks' time. I intend to enjoy a lot more of his company, in and out of my squeaky bed, between now and then.

As I write this, I can picture his exquisite butt. I can taste it.

My dick is getting hard; my mouth is watering.

***

Tonight J.C. was upstairs, awaiting a ride to soccer practice. I'd been sitting here reading a book and eating an apple, but stopped to chat and admire him in his soccer jersey and coveralls. "Don't let me interrupt you," he said. "Pretend I'm not here."

"As if that would ever be possible, eh?" I said.

After a few more minutes of delightful chatter, I did return to my reading as he stood at my front door. All of a sudden J.C. strode over, leaned his freshly-shaved head down, helped himself to a big juicy bite of the fruit I held inches from my mouth. We both laughed. A moment later his ride showed up, and he was gone.

Then I licked him off my apple.

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