Copyright 2009, Erik. J. Sander, all rights reserved. May not be reproduced or distributed without the authors permission.
All characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Do not read this story if it is considered a violation of local obscenity laws.
Send me a note if you enjoyed this story at erik.j.sander@gmail.com.
Woke up from my nap to two things: the bulge of my erection through a crisp cotton sheet and the contrast of my bare foot against a thin white curtain, tan and pink in the sunlight. My foot was actually more interesting. No idea why. My feet aren't really big or anything - I wear a size 10. At the moment, I just noticed how wide they were, the hair on the tops and just a little on my toes, the tan lines from the sandals I wear most of the time when I'm not on duty.
It was just a thick, manly kind of foot, and I noticed. I kinda liked it. I like my body. I'm thick and manly all over, I guess.
Thinking like that always gets me hard, and I was already hard, so I got harder. The bulge under the sheet twitched. I could already feel sap rising up the shaft.
I stretched, arching my back. The swell of my belly temporarily hid my erection. I kind of let my arm fall off the edge of the bed. My fingertips grazed a pump bottle of lotion, right where I left it last night. Cupped my hand and leaned down. Got a handful of cool cream.
Pushed the sheet down below my waist. My chest hair glinted in the light, brownish red. Cool breeze, so my nipples were tight. My dick was rosy, straining, lifted off my belly. Little pearl of juice at the tip. Don't know how long or thick, but it's a two-fister and then some. Depends on the fist, I guess.
Girls like it. Guys look at it. Sometimes they say shit, but usually not.
"Watch out, boys! Doc's packin'!" Shit like that. We all laugh and try not to sprout wood. We usually don't.
I flex and it lifts up even further, then I glide my hand across the shaft, lay down a coat of lotion. Grip the base with my right hand, get a reverse grip on top of that with my left. Veins on my hands stand out, snaking beneath short, curling hairs. Veins on my dick writhe purple and blue. I push my dick through my slick fists, humping with long, even strokes. As my hips grind forward, my feet turn out. I wiggle my toes. Air feels good. Head of my dick's on fire.
I picture Cypress riding me, knees tight against my hips, fingers tangled in my chest hair. Her large tawny eyes are shut, angry, mouth set. She's grunting like she's trying to get a stubborn stain off the floor. Every time she rises off my dick, she squeezes. I don't know how the fuck she does that.
I've never seen skin like hers. Like warm bronze.
Then I picture my buddy Jake behind her, face buried in her ass, smacking and slurping like a pig. She wriggles a bit, probably from his coppery stubble roughing up the skin between her two holes. He loves fucking ass only slightly more than he loves eating it.
Jake's a big guy, 6'2", blond and pale, with a farmer's tan and a dick like a rolling pin. Cypress gasps as he works in a beefy index finger, licking and sucking around it.
There's no avoiding his breath on my nuts. Makes me glad I don't shave them. Feels good, so I don't say anything.
I press the soles of my feet together, start fucking my fists in earnest. The squishing noises aren't too far off from the real thing. Cypress has a sloppy pussy, and I just make it sloppier. I imagine Jake having a hard time resisting the urge to get a quick taste of that tight golden pussy, seeing as I'm currently occupying it.
That gets me one step closer.
I imagine a couple of handfuls of breast, her small girlish nipples, her studded steel navel ring tickling my belly. Jake's thumbnails scratching my thighs as he pulls her asscheeks apart and starts tongue-fucking her ass. Her breath cools my forehead, smells like cardamom and the fleshy aroma of my crotch.
Then the idea comes to me: while I'm stabbing up into her, my legs thrashing, my feet squirming, the head of Jake's dick accidentally slaps the sole of my right foot. He's leaking like crazy, and he paints a cold trail of precum from ball to heel.
For some reason, that does it.
It shoots out in thick creamy gouts, glazing my hip and flank. Each squirt stings, like I'm working sand out of my prostate. The pleasure is hot, aggravated,
Cooling seed trickles down my side, and I imagine spinning around one hundred and eighty degrees so I can eat my own load out of her while Jake, grunting, pounds one into her ass.