Tangled Sheets (21 page)

Unable to suck his cock to the root, I contented myself with licking the length of it. I loved the way the landscape of his tool changed as I traveled it, the softness of the head narrowing into the rock-hard shaft, the vein beneath the skin pulsing as I moved along it until my tongue felt rough hair and my lips filled with the musky hair of his crotch.

Luke wrapped a hand around his balls and pulled up on them until they were right under my nose. He rubbed the furry sac over my lips roughly, and I licked at its heavy contents. Taking one smooth ball into my mouth, I sucked gently. Luke moaned and I felt him begin to stroke his cock. He pulled his legs up so that I could have more room to move.

As he did, his hips shifted forward and his ass cheeks parted slightly beneath his balls. The area between his cock and his ass was rich with hair that trickled into his crack. Seeing it exposed like that ignited something inside me, and I pressed my mouth against it hungrily, my tongue licking eagerly. Going lower, I explored the valley between his cheeks, tasting the rich musk of his skin.

Luke's hands came between his legs and the thick fingers pulled his ass cheeks even farther apart as though he were breaking a piece of thick, warm bread. His asshole, wrinkled and surrounded by hair, lay between the meaty flesh. I dove into it, the scent of Luke's body mingling with the smell of the sea on his skin. My tongue worked across the hot skin of his hole, tracing the folds, licking up his rich sweat. The hair of his legs brushed lightly on my cheeks as I ate out his hot hole.

As I worked on Luke's ass, I could feel the rise and fall of his nuts and knew that he was jerking off. He was moaning loudly, and his hips were thrusting against my face heatedly. “I'm going to come,” he said raggedly.

I looked up from between his legs just in time to see a geyser of white erupt from his prick and splatter onto the hair of his chest. His cock kept spewing gobs of jism until he was covered in it. The fingers wrapped around his piece were coated in sticky strings, and the shaft was slick with his juice. In the light from the candles, the pools of cum shone like gold.

I took his hand and began to lick the cum from his fingers, taking each one into my mouth and sucking it clean. The flesh was still hot from stroking his prick, and I could taste the combined flavors of cum and ball sweat on his skin. I moved on to his still-hard cock, washing every inch of the huge tool eagerly before licking the puddles of cum from his body. He had soaked his entire chest with his load, and it took a long time to get it all off.

As I licked up the heady smears from his torso, Luke was rubbing his cock slowly against my dangling one, pushing the big head along it until it slipped into my ass crack. That, combined with the fact that I had a belly full of his cum, was almost enough to make me shoot my own load.

“I want you to make love to me,” I whispered into his ear.

Luke smiled. “Oh, I plan on it. But first I want to play with that beautiful prick of yours for a while.”

Rolling me over, Luke knelt between my legs and started to pump my prick steadily. I was already worked up and was afraid I was going to burst before he got a chance to fill my ass with his big meat. But whenever I'd get close, Luke seemed to know, slowing down until my need died enough for him to resume his hand job.

Luke's lips closed over the tip of my cock and I slipped into his throat like a ship sinking into the sea. His mouth was warm, as though he held the sun beneath his tongue, and as he sucked my prick I felt acutely every movement of his mouth along my shaft. I arched my back, rising up to meet his downward strokes, fucking his handsome face. My hand on his head encouraged him to speed up his strokes, and he slid up and down my cock steadily, drawing rivers of pleasure from my near-bursting balls.

While he continued to blow me, Luke pressed a fingertip against the opening of my ass. Rubbing in tiny circles, he loosened it up until he could slide in an inch or two. My muscles clamped greedily around his thick finger, urging him deeper, but he continued to work only on the entrance to my chute until he was fucking me in time with the path his mouth trod along my prick.

Slowly he worked his finger into me, pushing it farther every time. I thought I was going to cry out from the exquisite feelings he was coaxing from me. Finally I felt his knuckles against my cheeks and knew that he was all the way in. Luke let his hand rest for a few seconds wrapped in my warm folds before pulling out and starting all over again with two fingers.

His hands were large, and having two of his fingers in me was like being fucked by a good-sized cock. When he had three buried to the joint inside my aching hole, I felt as though my balls were going to burst from the force of the pleasure inside them. I rocked my ass back and forth on Luke's hand, moaning and begging him to fuck me. My cock was so hard I was sure it would shatter like glass if he touched it again.

Then his hand was gone. I barely had a second to catch my breath before Luke had my legs over his shoulders and his cock was pounding its way into my ass. My chute stretched to new limits as his thick shaft pushed deep inside me. I took several quick breaths, overcome by the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure that was flooding me. Every nerve in my body seemed centered on the point where his cock was burrowing into me.

My legs were flat against Luke's strong chest, rising and falling with his even breathing as he made love to me, easing his cock back and forth in steady rhythm. I closed my eyes, the sound of the storm filling my head, the song of the rain playing behind the touch of Luke's big cock.

The harder he pumped my ass, the stronger the feelings flowed through me. I started to stroke my cock in time with him until the movements of my hand became an extension of his thrusts. Luke had his hands around my ankles and held my legs apart so that he could watch his cock disappear into my welcoming hole. His face glowed with sweat in the candle flames, turning him gold and red as he gazed down at me from between my thighs.

It seemed as though he fucked me for hours, his hard prick never stopping its back and forth motions. I felt as though the whole room were filled with him, the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the touch of his hands. We had built a world of warmth and light within the storm, and there we could make love forever.

Luke's thrusting was speeding up, and I saw the muscles of his neck tense as he tried to hold off the force that was clamoring for release within him. His head went back and he pumped me three more times before sinking home and letting his load roar out, filling me with sweet streams of his jism.

As he filled my ass I came in a great shivering spurt that exploded into the air and splattered my face and neck in thick rain. Three times I came, each one sending a fresh burst over my sticky body.

Luke pulled out of me and stood up. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand and pulling me to my feet.

He walked across the room to the doors that opened out onto the terrace. Pushing them apart, he stepped directly into the mouth of the storm. I followed, laughing at his foolishness or bravery, I couldn't tell which.

The rain was surprisingly warm, washing over us in wild gusts. The thunder and lightning crashed overhead, but Luke seemed not to mind. It also didn't seem to bother him that anyone might look up and see two naked men standing on a balcony in full view of the street. He ran his hands over me, wiping the cum from my skin until I was clean. Then he let the water sweep over him as well, lifting his face up to greet it.

Back inside, I grabbed some towels from the bathroom and we dried off. We lay down on the big bed, Luke's arms around me, surrounded by the flickering eyes of the candles. As I watched the storm outside, I remembered what Luke had said to me the first time I'd seen him, about not wanting to leave, and thought he might just be right.

T
he men's room smelled of ammonia and flowers, the strange bittersweet scent that clung to it after the cleaning person had finished washing the white tile floors and scrubbing the toilets with rubber glove–clad hands. It was after seven, and I was about to go home for the night after a long day of wrestling with contract negotiations for a television spot featuring a temperamental tennis hotshot. My bladder was aching, and I just wanted to piss and get out of the office. I walked up to the closest of the two urinals. Unzipping my pants, I reached in and pulled out my cock, feeling it hang heavily in my fingers.

The vein on the underside of my prick swelled as a stream of piss rushed out, breaking from my hole and splashing down onto the bright pink triangle of disinfectant that rested in the cupped hands of the bowl. I watched the pale yellow rainstorm tumble from my pipe, enjoying the heavy thundering sound it made when it hit the water, the way the pitch changed as the torrent became a slow stream before sputtering out.

As I shook the last drops from my dickhead, I saw that lying across the cold whiteness of the urinal's freshly cleaned rim was a single hair. Reddish brown, it curved sinuously along the surface of the porcelain like a fine vein running beneath the skin where it stretches paper thin over the bones of a hand. I stared at it, pleased by the way it cracked the otherwise seamless lip like a scar, a reminder of another man's recent presence.

Then I noticed the cum floating in the water, four small islands of sticky whiteness strung together by fragile filaments thin as cobwebs. I gazed at the sight, intimately familiar but at the same time so alien in its context, and an image began to form in my head. I pictured a man standing at the urinal, his legs slightly apart, his prick held firmly between thumb and forefinger as he pissed. He gripped himself tightly, enjoying the beating of his own cock against his fingers, stroking himself so subtly that the man next to him was completely unaware that his neighbor was getting pleasure from what appeared to him to be nothing more than another repetition of a function performed without thinking many times each day.

As I thought about the faceless man, my prick began to stiffen in my hand. The idea of him gripping his manhood, bringing himself off in the open of the men's room where anyone could walk in excited me. I imagined the look on his face as he came, the motion of his wrist as he milked the cream from his shaft, loosening the hair that lay now on the urinal. Or perhaps it had fallen from his fingers when he had been forced to tuck his sticky cock, still hard, back in his pants as the door opened and a coworker entered, nodding an oblivious greeting.

I stroked my cock as I thought about it, and soon my hard dick was sticking straight out from the dark blue folds of my suit pants, the head swollen and anxious. I started to imagine all of the men who stood in front of the urinal during a given day, each one with a different cock, individual in its shape and length, each man with a different way of holding his prick. As I beat my piece quickly, I envisioned them adding their piss to the endless stream that flowed through the urinal's open mouth and down the silver pipes of its throat, wondering how many of them knew what else went on in the bathroom.

I came in a long, furious shot that splattered against the back of the urinal. A sticky smear stained its white skin like a wet handprint across a cheek, reaching down into the water where it mingled with the other man's. I was about to flush away the remains of my hand job but decided instead to leave my load in the urinal for the next man to see. I laughed to myself as I pictured the expression on his face as he looked down and saw the sight of cum, so much like what came from his own prick when he jerked off but belonging to another man. I wondered if he, like me, would find the experience arousing. Brushing my fingers through my bush, I pulled out one black hair and laid it next to the reddish one before leaving for the night.

When I went into the bathroom the next morning, the urinal was once again sparkling clean, all traces of the cum stains wiped from its blank face. Periodically during the day I recalled the odd thrill aroused in me by seeing the man's pubic hair and jism and was overcome by the need to jerk off again. But once again I was busy untangling various work snarls, and it wasn't until long after everyone had gone home that I was able to finish up and head for my new nightly ritual. Again he had been there before me, this time landing his load on the lip of the urinal. While some had slipped into the water, most of it remained on the edge. I scooped it up in my fingers and used it to slick my own boner, sliding my hand over my cockhead until I came, thinking about the man's secret pleasure.

Every night for the next three days I found a fresh load waiting for me in the urinal. But even though I tried to keep an eye on who went in and out of the men's room, my mystery man eluded me. There are a lot of men in my office, and it could have been any number of them. I immediately ruled out all of the blond men because of the color of the hair I'd found. This eliminated five guys, but there were still more than a dozen possibilities. I decided to try the direct approach. Whenever I noticed someone I thought was a likely candidate heading for the men's room, I followed him, discreetly coming in after he was already pissing and trying to get a look at his equipment for the telltale reddish hair.

Throughout the day I observed firsthand the cocks of most of the department and was surprised at some of what I saw. Ed, an older man from accounting whose hairpiece was the focus of many a joke, sported a prick so large I couldn't believe he kept it hidden beneath his cheap, ill-fitting suit. Even soft it was impressively sized, with a silky foreskin sliding over the fat helmet. In contrast, Jim in finance hardly measured up to the stories he told every morning about the latest woman he'd brought to unknown heights of ecstasy the night before. He had glanced at my cock and left quickly, zipping his tiny dick up and leaving me alone to gloat over my discovery.

By the end of the day I was intimately acquainted with a number of cocks, some of which I wouldn't have minded being even better acquainted with. But I still hadn't figured out who my jerk-off buddy was. Discouraged, I packed up my briefcase and prepared to head home. As I was waiting for the elevator, I heard the click of a door closing. Making my way to the men's room, I listened for any sounds from inside.

I couldn't hear anything through the door, so I pushed lightly against it until a crack of light was visible. Looking in, I had a good view of the urinals. Standing there was Peter McKenna, the head of marketing. His hand was flying along a thick cock that stretched out from the fly of his suit pants. Peter's eyes were closed, and he was thrusting his prick into his fist as he pumped it. Low groans came from his throat as he squeezed his fat piece in his hand.

I couldn't believe it was Peter who had been flooding the urinal with his cream all week. A tall, handsome man, Peter was married, and his wife was the envy of every woman in the office. There was a picture of his two kids, a boy and a girl, on his desk, and he frequently spoke about family camping trips and coaching his son's Little League baseball team. Because he didn't work on my floor, it had never occurred to me that he would be the man at the center of my obsession.

I watched him jerk off for a few minutes, my own prick stiffening as I stared at his big cock. Peter was a large man, about six-three and well built. His hands were equally large, and the one wrapped around his shaft held it tightly as it moved up and down, the gold wedding band on the ring finger glinting under the harsh fluorescent light. I couldn't take having the big stud so close to me, and I walked into the bathroom. When Peter heard me come in he whirled around, his hand still grasping his rod.

“Oh, shit,” he said in his husky voice. “I, um, didn't know anyone was here. I'll just go.”

He started to tuck his cock back into his pants, but I walked over and put my hand on his arm. He looked at me for a few seconds with his large brown eyes, as if unsure of what to do, and then let his now half-hard prick hang free. The fat head swung in front of me, grazing against the bulge in my pants and causing my cock to jump with excitement.

I dropped to my knees, the coldness of the tile floor soaking through my thin suit pants like damp grass. Peter's cock loomed above me, the head bending down toward my waiting mouth. I licked gently at the glistening piss slit, pushing my tongue against the tiny opening to taste the juice that had crept up from Peter's nuts. He must have just finished pissing, and the bitter, masculine taste lingered on his skin. I ran my tongue under the head, into the valley formed where it joined the shaft. As I did, my lips closed around his wide tip and I sucked on his knob firmly, my cheeks pressed tightly around his shaft.

Peter's cock was warm in my mouth, and I felt it grow fatter and fatter as I sucked him back to complete hardness. Fully erect, his dick was straight and thick, the skin smooth and taut over the engorged flesh. Relaxing my jaw, I worked on the first four or five inches of his massive tool, pushing it into my throat slowly and steadily. I thought about his wife, wondering if she could take all of his massive man meat in her tiny lipsticked mouth, and slid down his prick until my nose was buried in the small patch of his musky bush exposed through his fly.

As I worked on Peter's prick, my hands were resting on his shoes. They were made of soft brown leather, and by pressing my fingers into the surface I could feel his feet beneath them. There is something about a man in a business suit that drives me wild—the way the clothes hang on his body, the way a tie encircles his wide throat or a watch the big bones of his wrist. Peter was a beautiful man, and in his suit he was a vision of power and strength. I rubbed his shoes slowly while I serviced him, the touch of the highly polished leather matching the sensuous, deliberate movements of my mouth.

Peter's cock was sunk deep in my hungry throat, my face pressed into his pants so that the zipper of his fly scraped my nose. I moved my hands from his shoes to his ankles, feeling beneath my searching fingers the silk of his dress socks and the way the muscles of his legs moved under them. Further up, the silk gave way to flesh, and I felt rough hair on my skin. Wrapping my hands around his firm calves, I massaged them in time with my sucking, my lips caressing the length of prick between them as my fingers caressed his strong legs.

Peter had his hands on my head, his fingers in my hair. He urged me to suck him more quickly, thrusting his prick into my mouth and pulling me forward urgently. I wanted to be able to touch his skin, so I reached for his belt buckle, undoing it and the button that held his pants closed. Peter's pants slipped from his waist and into my waiting hands like a sudden fall of snow. To my surprise, he was not wearing underwear. I ran my hands down his solid legs, rubbing the familiar auburn hair that blanketed his thighs and cupping the heavy sac of balls between his legs, each one the size of an egg.

Peter undid his tie and unbuttoned his white shirt, letting it hang open but not removing either one. His broad chest was covered in the same beautiful reddish hair as his legs, swirling in lazy circles over his muscular torso and trickling into the pool of his crotch. He stood in the empty men's room, looking down at me expectantly. Putting my hands on the rounded cheeks of his ass, I buried my face between his legs, sucking hungrily at his ripe balls, pressing his cock against my neck. His sac was damp with sweat, the skin salty to the taste, the smell of a man thick between his thighs. This only made me hotter for him, and I washed his balls thoroughly, every once in a while giving his cock a deep suck to remind myself of how it felt in my throat.

Peter was grinding against my face, pushing his balls into my mouth. As he did, his fingers were working on his tits, pinching them into full, ripe buds that stuck out from his chest. Rising from the floor, I moved my mouth to one of his nipples, scraping my cheek across the soft fur of his chest. As I closed my lips around his tender flesh, Peter placed his hands on my head, drawing me to him. I sucked at his tit, biting softly and teasing him with my tongue. I could feel his cock pushing up between us as he rubbed his body up and down mine.

Releasing his hold on me, Peter began to undo my shirt as I kissed his neck, my mouth moving into the sweet hollow of his throat. I helped him by undoing my pants and sliding them off. My cock was aching from being confined for so long, and now it stood up straight from my belly, electric with heat and expectation. Peter held my smooth nuts in one big hand and kneaded them as I ran my tongue over the muscles of his neck and kissed his mouth.

I slipped Peter's shirt off him and we stood completely exposed, our clothes scattered on the floor like puddles of water. I put my hands on Peter's waist and ran them along the muscles of his back. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him close until our pricks were snug against each other, beating hotly. His tongue pressed against my lips and entered me, hungry and demanding. He kissed me roughly, sucking the breath from my throat as he probed deeper and deeper. The hair of his belly rubbed along my smooth skin as he pulled me tight, sending tendrils of pleasure into my balls.

Moving behind me, Peter positioned me so that I was facing the wall with my hands on either side of the urinal and my cock dangling over the gurgling water. Coming up behind me, he pressed the entire length of his fuck piece against the crack of my ass, his balls hanging down against mine. He started to thrust against me, his cock sliding along between my cheeks like a steam engine. He slipped one of his big fingers into my mouth, and I sucked eagerly at it as he slowly fucked my lips, sliding over my teeth and tongue. He put two more fingers in, and I slurped at them like I was sucking his fat cock, the band that circled his finger metallic on my tongue.