Porn Prowl by Jon Let me tell you about Skip Morgan: How his big thick cock was straining against his pants leg, and his sweet, melon-shaped butt cheeks were shifting hornily against his leather seat. Skip's a gym-buffed 25-year-old. Blond haired, blue eyed, fine featured, Skip looks like an ivy-league heir to comfort and fortune, which he is, but he's also a super horny young studdums with an unquenchable thirst for cock. Skip's a junior attorney at a fancy downtown firm, the most junior, in fact. He should be thrilled by his job but he's not, he's bored and horny, horny as hell. Right now he's surfing the Net, looking for free pictures of hot naked guys with monster dicks and washboard abs, and reading steamy stories about queer sex acts, the lewder the better. A healthy load is building in Skipper's nuts, sperm and semen are perking in his big low-hangers, and a rising itch of lust has, as I've told you, caused his thick and veiny dong to push restlessly against the thin cloth of his Calvins and the even thinner fabric of his suit. The eraser-shaped nubs of his quarter-sized nipples also rub teasingly against his undershirt as Skip greedily devours the following story: The Uncle took the Nephew to the swimming hole. All the way there the Boy secretly admired his tall Uncle's beefy bod, hairy wrists, tree-trunk thighs, and bulging groin. The Uncle remembered how sexed up a youngster can be, and resolved to have some sport with the Boy. The Uncle suggested that they skinny dip; the Boy, secretly thrilled, agreed. Afterwards, sun bathing themselves dry on a ledge by the pond, the Uncle's cock ratcheted up to a full hardon. He made no effort to hide it from the Boy. Instead, he brought the conversation around to sex by remarking on the Boy's budding growth of pubic and armpit hair. The Uncle asked the Boy if the Boy's dick ever got hard like his own bobbing monster cock. The Boy told him yes, but not that large. The Uncle invited the Boy to touch it. The Boy was shy at first, then agreed. The Boy's smooth young fingers couldn't make a complete circle around the Uncle's butt-buster. The Uncle asked the Boy where he thought the most sensitive part was. After a few mistakes, the Boy got it right, and as if by instinct started to jerk the Uncle off with his slender fist holding the most sensitive spot on the massive dick. The Uncle returned the favor and started rubbing the boy's cock with his own more practiced grip. After a while (long enough to explain the lubrication value of the pre-come that was by then freely drooling from his purple cock head) the Uncle shot his load, which he allowed the Boy to touch and to taste. Using the come as lube, he quickly brought the well roused youngster off. The Uncle asked the Boy if he'd like to go swimming again soon. The Boy enthusiastically agreed, and the Uncle looked forward of a summer of instruction in jack-off techniques, and eventually in sucking and fucking. Skip can't resist going on to another story. Although his work is pressing, so is his dickhead against his suit leg. A thin line of sweat runs down the hairy cleft of his succulent ass. Skip's tank tee hugs his torso like a sausage casing, and Skip wonders if he dares loosen his tie, but becomes distracted when he clicks on the following tale: A number of guys from an accounting firm attended a large conference, including the firm's two young muscle-studs, Biff and Bobby. These guys were hot, and most of the women (and not a few of the men) in the office secretly liked to imagine them naked. When Biff, Bobby, and the rest of the group got to the conference hotel, it turned out that one too few rooms had been reserved. The desk clerk was sorry, but because of the conference, no extra rooms were available. What was to be done? Gamely, Bobby and Biff agreed to share a room; after all, each room had two beds. After dinner and drinks, everyone turned in for the night. Bobby had a secret crush on Biff, so he modestly changed in the bathroom, but Biff just stripped naked, and when he took a long piss he didn't shut the door. It was still fairly early, so the two hunky studs agreed to watch some TV. Soon Biff found the pay-per-view porn channel. Under the guise of curiosity they agreed to watch it, and before long both Biff and Bobby had sprung erections under the sheets. Biff said "Aw shucks, I'm not gonna be able to sleep like this, let's just whack off and get some rest." Bobby was hot to see Biff's hardon, and presently they were propped up, each man alone in his own bed, fisting their throbbing cocks. Bobby and Biff watched some chick get her pussy reamed out by a porn star's horse-dick until he shot on her cunt lips. Then Biff said, "Come here and suck on my cock, Bobby, I've watched you secretly eyeing it and I know you want to." In Bobby's heart,fear of humiliation briefly battled against the lust for Biff's cock. Lust won. Bobby followed his rigid prong across the narrow divide and onto Biff's bed, and knelt to take Biff's big piece in his mouth. Biff drew up his legs and spread his hairy thighs to give Bobby access. Bobby could hardly accommodate Biff's huge dick in his mouth. He held the base with his fist to keep from choking on it as he licked and sucked and sniffed. With his other hand he rubbed his own raging hardon, his fist dragging down on the sensitive flesh. Up and down he sucked the head and shaft, while Biff murmured encouragement, telling Bobby how good it felt, telling him not to stop. Bobby felt like he had to shoot soon. Biff's huge cock seemed to get even huger and harder for a moment, then it puked out jet after jet of white steaming come into Bobby's eager mouth. Bobby swallowed every drop of the pulsing syrup while he sprayed the sheets of Biff's bed with his own heavy load. Before they fell asleep cuddling together in Bobby's bed, Biff told Bobby he had guessed Bobby was hot for him, and that Biff, acting on this hunch, had himself called the hotel to arrange for one fewer room. The two handsome young men became fast friends. These stories are getting me fuckin' horny, thinks Skip. He can't resist giving his mammoth dick a friendly squeeze. I promise you, buddy, we're gonna fuck tonight, Skip tells his aching cock. But who? Skip runs through his mental rolodex. Maybe Rafi. Rafi is a slender but built Indian guy, dark, with swirls of shiny black hair on his chest and legs. Rafi knows a thing or two about fucking, and has spent many a pleasurable hour with Skip. Skip imagines in his mind's eye how he and Rafi sit cross-legged together, with a finger up each others' asses while the fingers of their free other hand delicately strum and fret the shaft of each others' dicks. Rafi likes to play new-age-sounding Indian music while they gently massage each others' cocks and buttholes. Rafi can keep Skip in an agony of almost-ejaculating for the better part of an hour. Then they shoot prodigious gobs of ball-juice all over the bed, the walls, and each other. Yeah, Rafi knows a thing or two about cock massage,thinks Skipper, but tonight Skip fancies a bit more of the old in-and-out, push-and-pull stuff. Maybe Tommy then. Tommy is a Southern mountain boy whose joy in life is to get radically butt-fucked. There's nothing passive about Tommy. He likes to sit up and down on Skip's dick, faster and faster, until he shoots his geyser of jizz. Skip loosens him up first with a lubed finger, then two. Then Tommy impales himself on Skip's dildo-sized meat stick, settling down into the pubey bush, before lifting up to the mushroom head. Faster and faster he goes, sometimes straight up and down, but sometimes at a slight angle, so Skip's cock shears mightily along the sensitive walls of his gut. Occasionally, in his enthusiasm, Tommy pulls himself up off Skipper's cock altogether. When that happens, he grabs the dancing truncheon with both hands, works the bulbous tip back into his hole, settles down onto Skip's lap again, and starts to fuck himself more demonically than before. Meanwhile Skip likes to arch his back and twist his own nipples back and forth, pulling and torturing the swollen paps. Tommy fervently tells Skip to fuck him harder, as if it were Skip and not himself that was doing all the work. "Fuck it in me man, fuck my hole man, fuck the shit out my hole, man, ram it, aw, RAM that motherfuckin dick up in there, yeah, aw yeah, RAM it man, fuck it right out my motherfuckin MOUTH, man." When he gets close to the edge, Tommy's exhortations sometimes take on a prayerful tone; he says "Oh mercy, oh mercy, FUCK me, man, Jesus, Jesus, mercy . . " Both men would be running sweat by then, jerking and humping. Often when Tommy comes his spunk hits the ceiling, while Skip's own gushing sperm fills his rubber like a water balloon. Yeah, Tommy would do just fine tonight, thinks Skip. But for now he clicks on another story. A bunch of men were in a smokey strip-joint near the Mexican border. Some of the guys were military, some not. A stripper, no longer young, did her act, finally running a string of colored spangles up between her cunt lips. By the time she did her last bump-and-grind, every dick in the place was rutting hot. For the finale, a brawny guy in a spangled outfit strutted on stage, tore off his clothes, and fucked the woman, first in her cunt, and then up her butt. By then most of the men were hooting and pawing at their dicks. Some even had them out and were openly jerking off. When the lights went up, two tall, dark-haired army guys with five o'clock shadows suggested to Buddy, a tourist, that they go look for some pussy together. Buddy was a smooth-chested blond guy who thought of himself as pretty well built, but he felt puny besides the strapping soldiers. One of the army men suggested they go up to their room in the rundown shabby hotel and call a hooker whose number he had. Buddy bought a six pack to contribute to the party. Once upstairs they called the whore, who said she'd be there in five minutes. The three horny men started working on the brew. It became evident the hooker wasn't going to show. The dark army guys began squeezing their turgid dicks through their uniforms. One of them said he sure needed to come bad. Buddy grew uncomfortably aware that he was smaller and younger than the others, and blond, and started to say maybe they should call it a night. But it was too late. The over-stimulated soldiers moved in on Buddy. Buddy said "Hey, guys, I'm not, like, into this" but the two hunky army men stripped him buck naked in practically no time. One held Buddy down while the other forced his huge cock into Buddy's ass, which he fucked like a piston before withdrawing and shoving his hard piece into Buddy's mouth. Buddy nearly gagged when he had to swallow the greasy cock that had been up his asshole, otherwise it wasn't too bad. After he came in Buddy's mouth the two soldiers switched places. When each of the army guys had come they brought Buddy off too, even though it was only by a hand job. Buddy thought they would despise him because of the way they had used him, but the soldier hunks just tousled his hair and said he was an honorary member of the U.S Army now, and that such treatment was a common part of hazing new recruits. They parted as friends. By now Skip's dick is almost shooting down his pants. Precome stains the dark material of his suit, it feels like his dick is leaking buckets. It is too much for Skip to bear, he has to shoot a load right now, he'll have plenty left for later. A desperate plan forms in Skipper's brain. Hearing nothing in the hall, he carefully folds a sheet of paper to catch the spermy load he's about produce. Then Skip unzips his pants--quietly, quietly--and liberates his straining member. He leans back, fingers the cockhead, and starts to whip it in short quick strokes. O, it feels so good, so good, like paradise. The pleasurable feeling becomes stronger and more focussed. Just then comes a sharp wrap at his door, and before Skip knows what's happening, Mr. Samsonov, a partner in the law firm, has stuck his head in the door. Samsonov comprehends the situation in a flash and growls, "What's this, Morgan, we can't have our junior attorneys beating off in their offices . . . alone." The last word strikes a ray of hope through Skip's horror. Samsonov tells Skip to come into his office for immediate discipline. Skip follows Samsonov down the hall and precedes him into the large and distinguished office, hardly daring to hope he can buy Mr. Samsonov's discretion with a blow job. Samsonov tells Skip that his offence was childish and deserves a childish punishment, and orders Skip to drop his pants. Samsonov tells Skip to bend over his massive desk so he can administer punishment. Before long, Skip's bubble butt reddens from the sharp spanking he receives. And then something surprising happens -- the spanking stops, and Samsonov sticks his thumb up Skip's asshole instead. Samsonov starts hooking his thumb around, rubbing and punching the thumb against Skip's prostate, hard. Skip looks back and up, twisting his trunk slightly, so he can see the expression on the older man's face, but avoids any sudden motion that might discourage the delicious finger-fuck. But it is not Mr. Samsonov who is administering the sweet torture. It is Skip's very own Father whose thumb is twisting and stabbing so lewdly up his hole. Skip stares in disbelief. It cannot be. "Dad?!?" he says, "Dad?? Dad?!!! Da-ad??!?? DAD???" "Hush, son, I'm right here." Skip awoke to see the early morning sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window, and his father bending over beside his bed. Only a few gray hairs mingled with Mr. Morgan's blond crop; Skip was his eldest and he'd started young. "I . . . I must have been dreaming" said Skip, propping himself up on an elbow. "You can say that again, Skipper," his father replied, sitting next to Skip on the bed. "Sleeping in your old bed again must've gotten to you." Mr. Morgan was wearing tartan plaid flannel pajama bottoms but no top, his usual combination, and Skip once again admired the pelt of blond chest hair that grew around his Dad's pink and nubby nipples, and drew to an ever finer line pointing south. Skip became awkwardly aware that his sexy dream had left him with a five-alarm erection that was tenting up the sheet. Looking down he noticed that his father's giant dick was also poking out through the piss slit of his pajamas, totally hard and flexing to his heartbeat. It was an awkward moment. Not to make some joke and get out of bed was to acquiesce to what was about to happen. His heart pounding, Skip sat still, struck dumb by the taboo urges he sensed and felt. Skip's inaction told Mr. Morgan all he needed to know. His son was allowing things to run their course; the moment was his to seize. "Skipper," he said, "Do you remember how when you were a little boy I used to put you to bed?" "Yeah Dad" said Skip in a strangulated voice. His father put his massive-muscled arm around the young man's shoulders, and kissed him tenderly on each eye. Skip kept his eyes shut, a faint whiff of manly after-shave in his nostrils. His father then moved his lips down to Skips mouth and kissed him on the lips, gently urging his son's mouth open and sticking in his tongue. In a daze Skip licked his father's tongue, teeth, and gums. He felt his dad's hand draw back the sheet and begin lightly but insistently jerking on his twitching dick. Seconds later his cock erupted in long streams of come juice that splashed first his chin and then his ribs before spasming out onto his belly, and finally running weakly into his bush. Skip lay back with his eyes still closed, breathing deeply, wiped. He felt the bed jiggle under him. Mr. Morgan, standing, was steadying his legs against the bed as he jacked his own weighty cock over his son's prone body. Skip kept his eyes closed. The spent young man was radiant in the morning light, garlanded in pearly come. Skip felt repeated blasts of piping hot semen, his father's semen, rain down on him. His cock stirred again and Skip for a second madly hoped his dad would allow him to fuck him. The image of his father lying face down on the bed, allowing Skip to part his beefy butt, was heart-stopping. But when he opened his eyes, his father had left the room. Skip carefully wiped the drizzling come off his face, chest, and thighs, and headed for the shower. After all, he was the hot-shot new junior attorney at his firm, and he had a busy day before him. In the shower, Skip considered whether it might not be a good idea to postpone his search for a one-bedroom apartment downtown. After all, Rafi and Tommy and the rest of the guys were only too happy to entertain him at their apartments, and a whole new world of possibilities argued for living at home, at least for a few more months.