Date: Tue, 06 May 2003 22:25:07 -0400 From: John Paul Subject: The Alphabet Lovers: Ulrich What a gorgeous specimen!! I'd never delighted in something so magnificent and breathtaking in all my life. As I ran my hands over that steel-hard body, I could feel the power lying beneath and it made me hard thinking about how incredible the ride was going to be. But I was getting ahead of myself. It isn't every day that one is in the presence of such beauty; every minute should be drawn out... savored... cherished. "Are you just going to stare at it and rub it all day?" Dietrich asked. "Shush! It's called foreplay," I retorted. He didn't understand; he got to touch it every day. I wasn't sure when I'd ever have this chance again. "You're getting fingerprints all over it," he griped. I sighed. "You sure know how to ruin the mood." "It's just another fucking car." "Just another fucking car?!" I growled. "You don't have a clue, do you? THIS is a Porsche 911 GT2! THIS is German automotive engineering at its finest and you, my friend, don't deserve it. You know as much about what to do with this car as I know what to do with a woman -- which, let me tell you, ain't a whole hell of a lot. It saddens me that they'll sell this fine piece of precision equipment to any just let any schmuck with 100 grand." Dietrich rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well I'm the schmuck with the key so, if you want to drive it, I'd suggest you watch what you say about me." "Okay, okay! You can be so sensitive sometimes." Dietrich smirked and dangled the key in front of me. My eyes widened to the size of saucers. I reached out and grabbed it. "Promise me you'll be careful. I just got this car back from the shop; and I'd like to be able to race it a couple of times." "I'm just going to take it for a spin." I can still feel the electricity that shot through my body when I slid the key in the ignition, and the sound of the engine as it roared to life still makes me break out in a cold sweat. I get hard just thinking about the powerful rumble of that monster's six-cylinders kicking out 456 horses of power. It's enough to make a guy bust his nut. If you love cars like I love cars, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. I don't think Dietrich realized the mistake he'd made in giving me the keys to his car. It's not that I planned on doing anything reckless, but once I had a taste of true power, I wasn't sure how willing I was going to be to give it up. "You will bring my car back, won't you?" he asked as I revved the engine. My blank-eyed stare and maniacal grin must have worried him a little. "Yeah, sure," I said. "John Paul..." "Relax!" I said, snapping out of my power-induced stupor. "Where am I going to go with your car, Dietrich?" "Just be careful!" he screamed over the sounds of screeching tires. I barely heard him as I sped off down his long, paved driveway. Dietrich lived in a rural town not far from Stuttgart. The road leading to his house was a nice, straight stretch of pavement that was good for test driving, but when you're in Germany, there's only one place where you can really put a car, and your nerves, to the test -- the autobahn. I didn't know my way around Stuttgart very well, but I made a point of remembering where the nearest on-ramp was. In a matter of minutes, I was on the freeway. I was on the autobahn... in a high-performance sports car... how cool is that?! It was 7:00 on a Saturday morning; traffic on the highway was extremely light. I downshifted and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The car growled and shot down the road like a bullet. I was in hog heaven as I watched the tachometer needle jump into the red zone. I shifted gears and listened to the engine purr happily. That baby handled like a dream; even cruising at 110, the steering remained tight and I always felt in control. I could have done that all day. 30 minutes and 50-some miles later, I decided it was time to return the colt to its master. God knows I didn't want to, but I knew, by then, Dietrich was starting to show signs of panic and hysteria and I couldn't put his dear wife through that. So, for Steffi's sake, I turned around and headed back. I took my time going back; not just because I wasn't ready to give Dietrich his car back, but also because I wanted to take in some of scenery that appeared as little more than a blur during my supersonic trip out. Even at a more reasonable 70 mph, the car growled like a tamed lion. Man, I loved that car! I'd only been back on the highway for a few minutes when the car suddenly started making sputtering sounds and lost power. No matter how much I floored the throttle, the injured stallion wouldn't pick up speed. I drifted to the shoulder and turned the car off. "Oh man, Dietrich is going to kill me!" I started to panic. The car was only a couple of months old and, although Dietrich wasn't even aware of what it meant to own a car like that, he did spend $100,000 on it. I didn't know what I had done. It's not like I was driving too fast or anything; I hadn't even tapped into the car's true potential. "Okay, don't panic, it's probably nothing. I'll just call a tow truck and have it fixed. I'll just say I got lost." With my deception planned, I got out of the car and put up the warning triangle before a cop came by and gave me a ticket to add to my misery. Then I trudged about a half mile to the nearest emergency phone -- one of many thoughtfully placed alongside the autobahn. A very pleasant dispatcher crackled through. Despite my flawed German, she was able to get all the necessary information from me and assured me that help was on the way. I thanked her then hiked back to the car and waited. Sure enough, less than fifteen minutes later, a tow truck pulled up in front of my friend's ailing automobile. The driver stepped out of the truck and sauntered towards me. The name stitched on his coveralls read, "Ulrich." "Mr. Batista?" he asked. "Yeah, that's me." "My name is Ulrich. Dispatch called me to look at your car. What seems to be the problem?" he asked. "It just... died," I said at a loss for the right German words to describe what had happened. "Have you tried to start it again?" "No, I was afraid to." "Let me try it," he said, holding out his hand for the car keys. I reluctantly handed them over to him. I'd been guarding them with my life and was clutching them so tightly that they left a clear impression of the Porsche emblem in my hand. "Don't worry," he said, seeing the concern on my face, "I'll be gentle." Hearing him say that made my cock twitch a little. Leave it to me to get horny at a time like that, but I couldn't help it; he was hot. That deep, gravely voice was enough to get my blood pumping and the rest of the package only added fuel to the fire. Even through the baggy coveralls, I could tell his body was tight and fit. His broad shoulders and chest tapered in a classic V-formation to his slim waist. I can only describe him as ruggedly handsome. He had a little stubble on his chin -- the beginning of a goatee, perhaps, or maybe he just forgot to shave. His short, sandy blond hair lay casually tousled atop of his head. I figured a manly man like himself couldn't be bothered with styling his hair after towel-drying it. And he WAS a manly man, as evidenced by his intense, almost surly gaze and his cocky swagger. He even smelled like a man -- you know... that heady mix of sweat and Lava soap. He got behind the steering wheel and started the car. It turned over, but it sounded sick, VERY sick. Instead of growling, it sort of... whimpered. He turned it off and shook his head. "That doesn't sound good," he stated. "Brilliant diagnosis," I thought. "What do you think it is?" I asked. "I'm not sure," he said walking to the back of the car. He lifted the spoiler and poked around inside the engine. "Mm hmm... mm hmm... oh..." "What?" "I see you had some modifications done to your engine." "Maybe... I guess... it's a friend's car actually." "Well, whoever made these modifications didn't know what they were doing. The good news is I can fix it. The bad news is that it's going to take a while... and it's going to cost you." I shrugged. It wasn't my money and I didn't have to be anywhere for another couple of days, so time and money were of no concern to me. "Fine, let's go," I said. Ulrich quickly hoisted the car up onto the bed of his tow truck. Once it was secured, we climbed in the truck and drove off. "That's a nice car," Ulrich commented. "Even in Stuttgart, you don't see many of them." "Yeah, it's gorgeous. I hope to have one some day." "You look like you can afford one, why wait for some day?" I wasn't sure how he supposed I could afford one just by looking at me. There was nothing particularly posh about my attire -- I wasn't even wearing any jewelry. "It's not that; it's just that I travel a lot and wouldn't have much time to enjoy it right now." "Oh," he replied. "What is it that you do that requires you to travel so much?" "I'm a photographer," I answered. "Oh yeah? What kind of photography?" "Stuff you'd find in a travel magazine... landscapes, people, cultural events..." "So what brings you here?" "The guy who owns this car owns a bunch of other sports cars. He's entering this one in a race in a couple of days and he wanted me to take pictures." "Wow! That sounds like a lot of fun. I love auto racing!" "You should come out and watch. It's by invitation only, but I have an extra pass if you're interested." "Really? Yeah, I'd love to. You sure you don't mind?" "I don't mind at all... in fact, I'd enjoy the company." We pulled up to the garage and jumped out of the truck. Ulrich showed me to the office and told me I could use the phone to call Dietrich. He then left to start working on the car. I rung up Dietrich and explained what was going on. He was hysterical and extremely apologetic. "I have some investors coming over," he explained, "so I can't leave for another couple of hours. And I dare not send Steffi for you; she'd never find her way. I can send for a cab or..." "Don't worry about it," I said, "I'll be okay here by myself until you can come out." "Are you sure?" I watched Ulrich swagger sexily across the parking lot. "Yeah, I'm sure." "Is everything okay?" Ulrich asked, stepping into the office. "Yep," I said. "But my friend can't pick me up for another couple of hours. Is it okay if I hang out here for a while?" "Yes, of course. You might be more comfortable back there in the lounge. There's a TV there and some magazines, and I just put a few cases of beer in the refrigerator. Make yourself at home." "Thanks." "No problem. If you need me, I'll be working on the car." I nodded and watched his sexy ass wiggle down the hall to the garage. With a sigh of discontent, I turned and walked into the lounge. Much like the rest of the shop, the lounge was very neat. With the bright white walls and plush, black leather couches, I could have sworn I was in a doctor's office instead of an auto repair shop. I plopped down in front of the 36" TV and started flipping through the channels. Fifteen minutes later, I was already bored out of my skull. German television left a lot to be desired and Ulrich's collection of magazines consisted of three-year-old issues of the German equivalent of Time. The thought of drinking myself into a stupor crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed that notion. I ended up watching some talk show about German transvestites and their surprised straight lovers -- at least I think that's what it was about; my German was a bit rusty. As rivoting as the topic was, I soon fell into a deep, mind-numbing sleep. "Mr. Batista? Wake up Mr. Batista." "Huh? What? Who? I swear I don't even know your son!" It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the midday sun beaming through the lounge. Through the fog, Ulrich's face came into view -- looking angelic against the sterile, glaring white backdrop. I smiled at him and he smiled back. As the fog lifted and my mind cleared, I noticed the look of concern that accompanied his smile -- the same look of concern that one often has for people who are mentally unstable. I sat up and rubbed my face in my hands, trying to hide my embarrassment. "Uh, sorry... I was having a strange dream," I tried to explain. Ulrich simply smirked and handed me a cup of coffee. "I needed some; I thought you might too," he said. I nodded emphatically and grabbed the cup. "Thank you," I said after taking my first sip. "How are the repairs coming?" I asked. "It's going well," he replied, scratching the small patch of hair on his chest with his grimy hands. Until then, I hadn't paid attention to the fact that he was half naked. He'd unzipped his coveralls and let them lay open around his waist, leaving his upper body completely exposed to my lecherous stare. He went on to explain what was wrong and what he was doing but, at that point, I wasn't interested in what he had to say. My attention was resolutely focused on Ulrich's magnificent torso. He wasn't bulky, but his body was rippling with rock hard muscles conditioned by years of good, hard labor. The v-shaped patch of sand-colored hair that first caught my eye lay nestled between his throbbing pecs. It narrowed into a thin trail that ran over his stunning abs and disappeared into his coveralls. I couldn't make out the details of what resided at the end of that trail, but I was willing to find out. As he continued to talk, his hand stayed busy wiping off the thin layer of sweat that coated his body. Each time he did, he left yet another black splotch of grease and dirt on his manly torso. I licked my lips and sighed. I suddenly became very aware of how horny he was making me, and how hard I was staring at him. My eyes slowly drifted up his body until they met his. He was still talking but there was a cocky smirk engraved on his rugged face. I'd been caught eyeing the goods -- there was no doubt about that -- and, by his reaction, he didn't mind being ogled. "Do you like what you see?" he asked, interrupting his explanation of the car repairs. "Yes." "Would you like to see more?" I looked down at his crotch. The contents within still remained concealed, but they'd become a little more... discernible. I definitely wanted to see more and didn't hesitate to tell him so. He didn't hesitate to grant my wish either. Ulrich was quick to push his coveralls down over his hips and let them fall around his ankles. He was obviously proud of his body -- as he should be -- and was willing to show it to anyone who was interested. I took in his beautiful body -- from his broad, powerful shoulders to his hairy, muscular legs -- but my eyes eventually settled on his true pride and joy. Hanging from his neatly trimmed tawny-colored bush were the sweetest pair of bloated nuts I'd ever seen and a long, slender uncut cock that would put many men to shame. It wasn't quite hard yet as it swung freely between his legs, but it was throbbing and swelling with each passing second. By my estimates, it would top out at a good eleven inches, if not more. I think I may have been drooling, but I can't be sure. I knew I wanted to suck it. Ulrich knew I wanted to suck it too. He stepped closer until his bone was within inches of my nose. His manly scent permeated my nostrils, forcing my lips to part ever so slightly. "What if someone catches us?" I asked. "Then they will catch us," he said frankly. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd been caught in a compromising position. "But if you are really concerned," he added, "I don't have any other mechanics scheduled to work today, I don't have any other clients right now, and your friend isn't scheduled to pick you up for another hour. I think we will be left alone for a while." He inched even closer so that his cock was right under my nose and resting on my lips and chin. At that point, I didn't care who saw us -- I had to have his cock in my mouth. I stuck my tongue out and licked it. I savored the briny taste of sweat then took another lick. I backed away from it and it sprung up and hit me on my nose. The head poked out from its protective hood and spit out a succulent pearl of pre-cum. I licked it away then wrapped my lips around his bulbous cock head. Ulrich moaned happily as I inched his foot-long cock into my mouth and down my throat. I was determined to swallow his pole and didn't stop until I felt his wiry pubic hair tickling my nose. Ulrich hissed and growled at the sensation of his dick squeezed in my throat. He grabbed the back of my head with his greasy paws and held me in place. I let him stay lodged in my gullet as long as I could, but had to come up for air eventually. I pushed his hips away and let his cock slide out of my gullet. I coughed a few times then gasped for air. "Sorry," he said. "It's okay," I said then sucked him back down my throat. I continued to eat his cock with great earnest. Despite its length, Ulrich's cock was a pleasure to swallow. It slid in and out of my throat fairly easily, it pumped out copious amounts of tangy pre-cum and, even when rock hard, it had a spongy texture that felt good rubbing against my tonsils. It must have felt really good to Ulrich because, before long, he had me leaning back while he fucked my throat -- I mean, full-on, deep-stroke, tonsil fucking with his balls slapping repetitively against my chin. I'd never had anyone use my mouth like that before. I put my hands on his ass and encouraged him to continue. His dick was really leaking now and I felt his ass muscles clench in my hands. Ulrich slowed his pace then stopped altogether. He eased his monster dick out of my throat, leaving behind a trail of sticky pre-cum in my mouth. I rolled it around on my tongue to savor the taste and then let his thick German cream trickle down my well-fucked throat. "Your mouth is very hot," he huffed. "Any longer and I would have exploded down your throat." "That wouldn't have been so bad," I said, gulping down the last of his goo. "No, I suppose not... but I was thinking that... well... I was wondering if you liked to be fucked. I mean, if your mouth is that hot, your ass must be out of this world." I flashed a sly, seductive grin. "As a matter of fact, it is," I boasted. "You want to see for yourself?" "Oh yes... please!" He stepped back so I could stand up and get undressed. While I was busy taking my shirt off, Ulrich bent down and went to work removing my shorts. He was eager to get at me and his enthusiasm made me feel super horny. My cock was so hard; it stretched the thin cotton material of my briefs to its limit and was leaking considerably. Ulrich gave it a firm squeeze and looked at it inquisitively. It never occurred to me that he may have been new to this whole man-to-man experience, being the masculine man that he was. Mine may have been the first cock he'd seen and touched other than his own. "Take it out," I said. At my urging, Ulrich reached inside my overstuffed underwear and fished out my throbbing cock. It was as hard as steel and sticky from my leakage. He gave it a few uncertain strokes. I hummed to let him know how good it felt and he seemed pleased with himself. He licked his chops and gave it a few more confident squeezes. "Looks good, doesn't it? Why don't you taste it?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't deny me the satisfaction of feeling his lips around my dick. He seemed torn. "I don't know," he said. "I've never done that before." His comment made me wonder what he HAD done before. Whatever his past experience, I was determined to add to cocksucking to his résumé. "C'mon! You saw how much I liked it, right?" I could see the glimmer of hunger in his eyes. "Just take a quick lick. If you don't like it, you can stop." Ulrich couldn't resist the temptation any further; he dropped to his knees and aimed my rock hard dick at his lips. His tongue slithered out of his mouth and licked the tip of my cock. I watched his face frown then relax as he considered his first taste of man juice. He must have liked it because he came back for seconds... and thirds. Finally, with his inhibitions aside, he took the plunge and sucked my aching cock into his mouth. It was just a couple of inches, but it was the best couple of inches I'd felt in a long time. I imagine he'd had his dick sucked enough times that he knew what to do because he was pretty damn good for a first-timer. He used his hand to get my hose dripping while his tongue swirled around my prong to lap up every drop. He was reluctant to take more than three or four inches into his mouth, but I was content with the job he was doing. It was enough just to see the studly grease monkey servicing my dick... and enjoying it! He even let me use his mouth as a fuck hole. Watching my shiny dick slide between his tightly drawn lips was more than I could take. I felt my nuts tighten up and the rumbling in my stomach. "Ulrich, I'm going to cum... real soon," I warned. He pulled his lips off of my spit-covered prick and stared at it. Grabbing it by the base, he aimed it at his mouth and said, "I want to taste it." He wrapped his fingers around my thick pole and started stroking it, all the while keeping it aimed squarely at his open maw. I grunted loudly and let fly the first blast of cum which splattered across his lips. The next five or six eruptions were direct hits and coated his fleshy, outstretched tongue. After I'd blown the last of my wad and he'd squeezed out the last drop from my twitching cock, Ulrich folded up his tongue and drank down my load. What a sight to see! It was almost enough to make me pop another nut. "Wow! Fuck!" I bellowed. "That was awesome." "Yes, it was," he agreed, licking strands of spunk off of his lips. "I should have tried that sooner." I grinned down at him and grinned back up at me. "But now I'm ready for something more." I knew exactly what he was talking about -- I was ready for it too. I gestured for him to switch places with me so that I was now kneeling before him with his elongated aimed at my face. I sucked on it for a few minutes -- just long enough to get it ready and to let him step out of his boots and coveralls. Once his cock was hard and wet enough and he was completely naked, I stood up, turned around and bent over the couch. My ass was his for the taking. I shivered in anticipation as I felt his calloused hands latch onto my smooth cheeks and spread them apart. His hot saliva dripped onto my exposed pucker and clung to the wrinkles surrounding it, just waiting to be shoved deep into my ass by Ulrich's foot-long bratwurst. I felt him knocking at my entrance and pushed back to accept him. The fat, mushroom-shaped helmet popped through my tight opening with little fuss and his thin, vein-covered pole slid right in behind it. Ulrich met a little resistance a couple of inches in, but he pressed on doggedly and broke through the second barrier. Further and further into my bowels he pushed; I thought he'd never stop. It already felt like he was pushing against my stomach but he continued to press on. I knew I had him completely inside when I felt his soft pubic hair mashed against my butt cheeks. Ulrich put his hands on my hips and gently rocked his pelvis back and forth to get me acquainted to the feeling of being impaled on his club. That's a feeling I'll never get used to. It's a sensation of fullness unlike any other, touching me in highly sensitive places where few men have touched me before. We both grunted softly as he gently poked my guts. "You're right," he whispered, "your ass IS out of this world." "Thanks," I grunted in reply. Ulrich's cock retreated from its hideout deep within my ass only to return with greater speed and force. So powerful was the thrust that it left me seeing stars. "Now that's how you're supposed to use a big dick like that," I moaned. "So you like that?" he asked, thrusting into my ass again. "Mm hmm," I whined. He withdrew and shoved into me once more to the same rave reviews as before. So, he did it again, and again, faster and faster, until he was ramming that monster into me with so much force that the sofa started moving beneath his savage thrusts. He grabbed onto my shoulders, put his feet up on the couch and fucked me like a pile driver. He was tearing my ass up and I loved it! We were getting quite a workout in the lounge that day. His sweat dripped like hot coals onto my back and we both grunted like the fuck pigs that we were. Ulrich's grunts grew louder; his thrusts slowed. I felt his fingers dig into my shoulders and I knew he was about to explode. I tightened my sore ass as much as I could to help bring about his orgasm. It wouldn't take much. His body trembled and the first gush of jism flooded my ass. Gallons of hot cream saturated my bowels as Ulrich emptied the contents of his huge bull nuts. As soon as the last shivers of orgasm coursed through his body, the mechanic pulled out of me and started dressing. I turned around to see him stuff his sticky cock back into his coveralls and zip up. Then he bent down to put his boots back on. "I have to get back to work," he said. "There's a washroom just down the hall if you'd like to freshen up." "Okay," I said, feeling slightly used and discarded. I wasn't expecting cuddling, but damn! He walked out of the room -- never once looking back. I picked up my clothes and hobbled down to the washroom to get cleaned up. About a half hour later, Dietrich drove up. I met him outside, explained what was going on, and then took him back to the garage. "Ulrich, this is Dietrich Krieger. He owns the car." "Pleased to meet you," Ulrich said, springing up from his position beneath the car and shaking Dietrich's hand. "John Paul tells me that there's a problem with the engine modifications." "To put it mildly," the mechanic replied. "Damn it! I should have known Ralf was going to fuck something up. Well, did you have to take the mod out or were you able to fix it?" "I was able to fix it, but I'd like you to drive it around for a while and bring it back tomorrow if that's not a problem." "It's no problem at all. I'm sure John Paul won't mind taking her for another joy ride. He can bring back in for a check up." I believe I saw Ulrich's face light up. "Excellent," he said. He was talking to Dietrich, but his eyes were firmly set on me. Dietrich and Ulrich finished their business and we were set to go. I hopped into the Porsche and started it up. Just as I got ready to drive off, Ulrich tapped on the window. I rolled it down and he leaned inside. "I will see you tomorrow then, John Paul?" he asked. "Yes, I'll bring the car back in for a check up." "The car is fine," he said, "But I think you could use another tune up." A wry grin spread across his lips and I once again saw the hungry gleam in his eyes. "We'll see," I said then drove off. I let Ulrich service me a few times that following day, but it was he who ended up getting the tune up... and a lube job to boot.