Date: Thu, 12 Jul 2007 23:27:57 -0400 (GMT-04:00)
From: crumby2392@mypacks.net
Subject: Hot encounters of a bi married man 6:Give Me Fat Men

GIVE ME FAT MEN

They say fat men are sensual men.  I've often found that to be true.  Here
are three cases.

In the steam room one day, a young overweight man, probably Hispanic or
native American, is sitting on the bench.  He has a nice plump cock, which
he keeps adjusting, just a bit too much for the problem to be his position
on the bench.  No, he's looking at me once in a while.  And the thought is
getting me hard.  You can see it through my towel, modestly wrapped around
my middle.

So I do some adjustment of my own, squeezing my thickening cock, and
looking back at him.  He continues his stares and his time-to-time
readjustment.  He wants me to take the initiative.

OK, I will.  I stand up, and sit next to him, close enough for him to know
that it's purposeful.  And I remove my towel.  And I flex my cock, so that
it jumps a bit between my legs.  I've made my moves--his turn.

But he sits and stares forward.  I flex my cock, look at him out of the
corner of my eye.  I want him to make a move.  I just sit there, adjust my
position, flex, adjustm flex.  Sit there.  Flex, adjust.

I want to win this game.  I want him to touch me.

Finally he can take it no longer.  He reaches over and pumps my
cock. Bingo!  I grab his, and we're off.  He bends down and sucks on me.
It's true--fat men suck good cock.  His tongue is all over my head.  He's
deep, he's shallow, he's fast, he's slow.  He's enjoying my cock, taking
all I've got to offer him.

And he doesn't seem to want reciprocation--another thing I've found about
fat men.  Every time I try to take my cock away, every time I bend down to
get him in my mouth, he pushes me gently back.  Fine.  I like to
reciprocate, but the point of this is for both of us to be pleased.  And we
are.

Suddenly the steam gasps.  This means the door has opened, and someone's
about to walk in.  We break apart.  In walks a nice-looking younger man,
and he's naked.  Nice body, slightly buffed, nice muscles.  And no towel.
That's an invitation.  He sees us sitting just a little too close together,
and gestures towards his cock.  So three's company.

Fat Boy reaches over and takes my cock in his hand.  Then he reaches out at
takes Buff guy's thickening cock, pumping us both.  Buff Guy comes over and
stands near Fat Boy.  I get up and stand next to him.  Fat Boy now has two
cocks staring him in the face.  But he can only get at one with his mouth.
Which one?

Mine!  This turns me on.  I'm instantly rock hard.  He's fingering Buff
Guy's cock, but he's chowing down on mine.  Buff Guy doesn't like this--too
bad.  He looks at me.  By way of compensation, I feel his ass.  It's meaty
and muscular, and I'm enjoying it.  I run my hand down his crack, down
behind his balls.  Fat Boy is still pumping him by hand, and still sucking
on me. Meanwhile, I enjoy feeling Buff Guy's firm round ass, squeezing the
hard globes, sneaking my hand just a bit into the hot ass crack.  I feel
the muscular mounds of his chest, get his nipples to stand up under my
fingers.  Buff Guy doesn't reciprocate, but I don't care: the scene is
still hot.

Then Buff Guy tries to get his cock into Fat Boy's busy mouth.  Fat Boy
can't quite take both cocks, but tries.  The feeling of Buff Guy's cock
against mine is turning me on, but Buff Guy is a little frustrated.  He's
very hard, and he can't get Fat Boy to suck him.  I pull my cock out, so
that just the head is inside Fat Boy's mouth.  Buff Guy tries to cram
himself in.  But Fat Boy wants me, not him.  He sucks a bit on Buff Guy's
cock, then uses his nimble mouth to sort of suck him out, and suck me in.
Now Buff Guy is lubricated, and Fat Boy continues to jerk him off.  I reach
down, by way of encouragement, and pinch Fat Boy's nipple.  He has large,
woman-like nipples, on adipose breasts.  Not much of a turn-on for me, but
he goes wild when I feel his wide nipple.  It stands up, I pinch it, play
with it.  He thrusts his mouth down on my ever-hardening cock, cramming
more of me down his throat.  He loves this.

Soon it's over.  I remove my cock, just before it explodes.  Buff Guy takes
his own in hand, jerks wildly.  Fat Boy is not hard, but fondles himself,
bringing himself to hardness real quick.

I explode first.  The cum splats onto Fat Boy's chest.  Buff Guy gets
excited.  His eyes are closed and he's pumping like mad.  His cock flares,
the cum rockets out, and joins mine on Fat Boy's chest.  I smile at him and
at Fat Boy, who is now pumping like mad.  I reach over and tweak his
nipple, then suck on it.  Why not?  He's given me so much pleasure.

That does it.  Fat Boy cums, the semen boiling out of his cock and slipping
down the side.  I hold him by the neck, squeeze him in a friendly way, and
smile.  He smiles back.  Buff Guy left just after cumming.  Fat Boy gets
up--his ass is a little too big for me--and pads out of the steam room.  I
sit for a while, recovering, then go out and shower.  * * *

Then there was Fat Boy in Chinatown.  (He's not Asian--that's for another
story.  It's just that this gym is in Chinatown).  A different gym, with a
nice hot sauna.  It's 9:15 AM.  The guys who have desk jobs have finished
their morning workout and left.  I'm alone in the sauna with Fat Boy.  He's
is nice looking, and lightly hairy.  I like that. If he could shed 50
pounds he'd be hot.  As is, I don't find him hot.

But he finds me hot.  He's looking at me, and his cock is swelling.  This
is turning me on, in spite of myself.  I am on the lower bench, my towel is
around my legs, but my knees are up, so he can see my equipment.  And it's
getting hard.  Didn't think I would, but his enjoyment of me, and of
himself, is turning me on.  All I'm doing is sitting there with my legs
open, enjoying that feeling of fullness in my penis, that feeling that it
is forsaking its function of excretion and assuming its function of
pleasure.

Fat Boy keeps looking at it and playing with himself.  Time for the next
phase.  I take off the towel, climb onto the upper bench, and sit there, my
legs spread, my cock thick and hardening.

Fat Boy takes the bait.  We're looking at each other.  Maybe it's our eyes
that are causing our cocks to swell.  Or maybe we're reading each other's
minds.  In any case, Fat Boy gets up, stands in front of me, and
immediately swallows my cock.  His mouth feels hot--and huge, cavernous,
like my cock is a small morsel for him.  He's sucking like mad, running his
tongue along the bottom of my cock, the cum vein, the cleft, the piss slit,
exploring my cock with his tongue.  He has a way of waggling his tongue
sideways to my dick, just by the cleft, which drives me wild.  I'm
squirming on the bench, can't keep my ass in one place.  I'm bucking my
crotch forward into his mouth.  There seems to be no bottom to his oral
cavity, and no end to the curiosity of his tongue.  He's getting way
hot--he loves the feel of my cock in his mouth.  His short, fat cock is
right by my hand, and I curl it around him, pumping up and down.  He keeps
sucking on me wildly.  His body remains still, no ass movement, no stomach
spasms--and cums into my fist.  His cum dribbles down his cock and I keep
pumping, slowly getting gentler, as I know he's becoming more and more
sensitive.

But he never for a minute lets up on my penis.  He rolls the head around in
his mouth, feeling every possible movement, every bit of skin.  I'm very
hot. I want to take my cock out and shoot.  He won't let me.  He pushes my
hands a way.  I tell him, "I'm gonna shoot.  Lemme shoot.''  He shakes his
head no, at the same time, hitting my trigger spot just so, and I explode,
in his mouth.  He gulps the cum down like it's the last edible thing on
earth.  I'm spasming big time, eight or nine big spasms, so hard it almost
hurts my dick.  My ass clenches, my stomach muscles tighten.  He's pressed
his mouth against my crotch, and I've involuntarily thrust my equipment up,
up off the bench, and deep into his mouth.

A few more shudders, and I'm done.  I never saw the cum, never knew how
much I shot.  I don't often cum in a guy's mouth--I'm clean, but he doesn't
know that, and I don't want to encourage risky play.  But this time he
insisted, with his mouth, with his whole body.  He insisted even after he
himself had cum.

So he seduced me, twice.  He got me hot, by playing with himself on the
bench. Made me hard, made me get up on the upper bench, made me beckon him
over with my eyes.  He made me seduce him.

Then he seduced me with his mouth.  I really wanted to pull out.  I really
wanted to see myself shoot, to play safe.  But he made me stay inside, made
me spasm hard deep in his mouth.  Or did I seduce him, intrigue him with my
cock?  If he were writing this story, would he be telling how he couldn't
stop sucking, how he wanted me to pull out but couldn't let me go?

And maybe that's the best sex, the best communication--to seduce each
other.

I saw him a few more mornings, and we played this out again.  Each time, he
started by playing with himself.  Each time, I thought I was tired from my
workout.  Each time, I got thick, then hard.  I jerked on him, he swallowed
me.  We never got tired of this ritual, repeated it four or five times.
Each time, I came in his mouth, and he wouldn't let go.

Then my schedule changed, or his did, and we lost contact.

***

The third fat boy was in the baths on the West Coast.  I was hard all
evening--the bath house does that to me, the masculine smell, the sounds of
lovemaking, the low lights--and a hit of Cialis.

Tired of cruising, I lay on my back in my cubicle, watching the porn, with
my door open.  The glow of the TV highlighted my erection, and my gym-toned
body.  Various guys looked in, played with me, went out again.

Then a guy came in.  Not bad looking, in his mid 20's, and overweight.  Not
an elephant--you could see the muscles in his arms and thighs.  About 30
pounds less and he would have a great body.  Just enough fat so that you
wouldn't call his body `great'.  But a nice face.  And a great smile.

Tattoos on his arm.  I couldn't see what.  Later I found it was a ship.  So
I always imagined he was a sailor.  Never really found out, though.

He came bounding in, almost skipping, and whipped off his towel.  He was
glad to see me, as Mae West would have said.  But I had the gun.  He wasn't
hard, just horny.  He looked at me, bent down, and started sucking my cock.
Slurp, slurp, slurp, his tongue feeling my cum vein, exploring my dick
head.  This guy was 250 pounds of sheer enthusiasm.

I loved it, but there was more.  He wanted much more.  He pulled out a
condom, deftly rolled it on me, and sat down squarely on my cock.  No
dicking around, no easing it in.  He was ready-lubed and open.  And his ass
swallowed me just like his mouth had.

He kept smiling all the time, like a little kid at the fairgrounds.  He
bumped up and down, back and forth, side to side.  His ass devoured my cock
from every direction.  He found one angle where I must have been massaging
his prostate, and started going faster.  He bounced his torso on my cock,
arching his back on the upswing, coming down hard on the down swing.  His
cock swelled and bounced.  He was grinning from ear to ear.

My cock felt great, but I was scared.  One false move and he'd make a
crease in my stiff cock.  I'm so hard that this might cause serious injury.
"Take it easy," I tell him.  He looks at me and keeps smiling.  His bounces
are a little less energetic after that, and he presses his ass just a touch
languorously against my crotch.  In a few years, he'll learn to make love,
not to grab at it.  Right now, he's enjoying himself too much.  That
smile...

See, I'm pretty serious about my sexuality.  I like it when a guy
concentrates on the feelings, gets into my body and I get into his.  I find
talking a distraction, even dirty talking, even appreciative words.  And
smiling--well, I'm always wondering what the other guy is thinking about,
because my experience of sex is of something so intense that I can't smile.
I'm not frowning, I'm not serious.  I'm just sexual.

But this guy's way was different.  He grinned.  He looked at me with
sparkling eyes. His body wiggled back and forth like a ten year old boy.
And he's gasping: "Ooo!  Oh!" with every shift of his hips, every jab of my
cock into his body.  He looks at me and smiles.  It's infectious.  Despite
myself, I smile back. I'm enjoying the sex, and I'm enjoying his attitude.
A big boy, no question about it.  But a little boy's affect.

Then he says, "You're only the third man I've had."  This drives me wild.
He's maybe 250 pounds, he's sitting right on me, but I manage to lift him
up with my hips, bucking my cock up into him at these words.  I want to
show him just how much of a man his third man is.  It doesn't really do
much for the fuck, but I had this visceral response to his comment.

He continues for a while.  I grab for his dick, but he waves me away.  It's
hard, it's bouncing around, but somehow it's there just for the ride.  It's
his ass that's getting the good stuff.  His ass is the soul of his being,
the center of his horniness.  And I'm filling it up, massaging it from
every direction.  No, I'm not.  It's his body that's moving.  It is he that
is using me for his pleasure.  And I love it.  A very strange kind of
mutuality.

He's smiling all the time, continually engaging my eyes, gasping and
wiggling.  I reach up and tweak his nipples.  Large, quarter-size nipples,
on muscular pecs surmounted by a hill of fat, all hairless.  Very exciting.
As I tweak him, his nipples erect, and he wriggles even more
enthusiastically.  He locks eyes with me, shifts his hips kind of sideways,
and smiles again.

His enjoyment of me is infectious.  I'm going to cum.  I lay back, and his
ass grips me, writhes around me, drains me of my cum.  I'm tweaking his
nipples, and he's gasping.  His torso is stretching up, up.  He's acting
like a woman having an orgasm.  But he doesn't shoot.  I hold his cock for
the last few minutes.  He's hard, but not throbbing.  Not near orgasm.
Something must have happened inside his ass, where his libido lives.  He
loved my cumming, and seems satisfied.  He climbs off, takes the condom off
my cock, and fondles me.  Then he wraps the towel around himself--it
doesn't quite fit around his waist, smiles at me, and leaves.

Later, much later, I'm wandering around, looking for fun.  There's one room
with a maze, and overhead a large screen showing porn.  I look up at an
especially hot scene--four muscular and handsome studs groping each other.
Two of them start fucking in the background, and the camera pans over to
them, then back to the others.  I'm fondling myself under my towel, because
the film is getting me hot.  Suddenly I feel a hand on my balls. I look
over, and see a shoulder with a ship's tattoo.  It's my fat smiling friend.
He looks at me with recognition and joy.  I reach over and fondle him.
This is going to be fun.  We stand there, looking at the porn, jerking each
other.  Suddenly he turns away, his cock not so hard.

"You OK?" I ask him.  I'm not worried, and I don't want to communicate
judgment.  But I want to share that mutual good feeling with him.

"They're not fucking," he said.  And they weren't.  The fucking couple in
the film had finished, and the hot guys were just jerking each other.  Only
anal penetration turned him on.  But I knew that already....

My tattooed friend looks up, looks down, and moves on.  He wants another
dick up his ass, maybe not mine. OK.  He's already had mine.  I smile at
him and he drifts away.  I silently wish for him a strong and handsome
fourth man, one who fills his ass, one who satisfies his libido, that devil
smoldering deep in his gut.