Copyright ã 2010

By Lee Mariner

This erotic fantasy is intended for ADULT readers only. If you are not of legal age in your community to be reading this story or should you not approve of such material, PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.

This story is not to be copied, reproduced, posted on any web site or archived without the written permission of the author. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

My friend, David, has edited this story. I am grateful for his expertise in English composition.


We all have our pet peeves. Mine is bothersome door-to-door and telephone sales persons. The phone will ring or someone will knock on the door just about the time I am sitting down to my dinner or about to take a shower in preparation for dinner out with friends or on the verge of retiring. The timing of these unwanted intrusions is the work of the devil.

Caller ID helps some in avoiding unwanted sales calls but, it is hard to resist answering when the phone rings and the receiver picture gives only partial information. I can't count the calls that I have received from a real person or from the even more irritating monotone machines that are selling everything from auto or home insurance to lawn service or power-washing service for my home. Fortunately, hanging the receiver up solves the problem for awhile. Placing names and telephone numbers on the Federal Do Not Call list only partially solves the problem.

Door to door soliciting is a little different. Instead of an unattached voice from somewhere in the hinterlands, the person and the voice is standing at the doorway.

My name is Russell Compton, and I thought we might compare our various encounters with unwanted salespersons real or mechanical. Wellllllll, lets say they were unwanted most of the time. There could be one or two exceptions.

To give you a visual picture of myself, I am twenty-six, five foot eleven inches tall and I weigh around one hundred sixty five to one hundred seventy pounds. My chest is broad and hairless with large aureoles encircling twin nipples centered at the apex of thick breast muscles. There is a thick treasure trail of dark brown hair leading from my inny belly button downward through tight ridges of abdominal muscles of my thirty-inch waist before merging with the thick bush of silky hair surrounding the base of my thick, slightly longer than seven-inch uncut cock. My weight depends on how often I visit the local Dunkin' Donuts, or any one of the numerous hamburger palaces that are on almost every corner. For all of that, my weight has never been an unmanageable problem since I've been working out at the Mighty Atlas Fitness Club three to four times a week. The club is fully equipped including showers and a wet and dry sauna room. In addition to these benefits there are benefits of a more carnal nature that were often readily available. But, that would be another story.


This story begins on a Saturday morning at the end of summer and beginning of autumn. It is the time when the seasons are in flux and the weather is unpredictable.

I was sitting at my kitchen table listening to the magnificent voice of Pavarotti singing on a local classical station while drinking my morning coffee and reading my newspaper clad in only my bathrobe. While the coffee was making, I had, as part of my usual morning practice, taken my shower and shaved. Since it was Saturday and, I was no particular hurry, I took my time. I was unfolding my newspaper to the editorial section when the doorbell of my apartment sounded. `Damn,' I mused to myself. `Who in the hell can that be?"

The doorbell rang again before I got to the door and that was even more irritating, and I was ready to give the irritant a piece of my mind when I opened the door.

Removing the night chain, I looked through the peephole before unlocking the door. Someone with blond hair was standing on the other side with his back to me. He was wearing a light windbreaker and what looked like an advertising vest over his jacket. `Harmless enough," I thought as I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

I was about to ask him if I could help him when he turned around. He appeared to be in his late teens to early twenties and even with the jacket and advertising bib emblazoned `Daily Guardian`, it didn't take much imagination to see he was definitely well proportioned. A quick glance downward, reveled tight Levi Jeans encasing his narrow hips and an impressive bulge in his crotch. His thick hair was brilliant blond and cut a little higher and tighter than usual for his age. His eyes were a soft turquoise blue and his lips were full and slightly parted revealing snow white teeth.

`Good Lord,' I mused, breathing in deeply, my heart rate increasing rapidly. But, I managed to say, "May I help you?"

Quickly glancing at a card he was carrying, he said, "Yes, Sir, Mr. Compton," my name is Trevor Hampton, and I'm with the Daily Guardian, our local college newspaper. We are canvassing the neighborhoods surrounding the college campus asking for subscriptions to the `Guardian' and we are hoping you might be interested in subscribing."



My loosely tied robe had, unknown to me, fallen open. When I saw his eyes directed first at my chest and then downward, I subconsciously started to adjust it and then, I stopped. The sudden redness of his face and the sparkle in his eyes was a dead give away that he was suddenly less interested in selling subscriptions than he had been.

"I was just about to have my morning coffee, Trevor," I said. "If you would you like to come in and join me, we can discuss it?"

"Sure," he answered, quickly slipping the card he was holding into the pocket of his jacket.

"If you want, you can take that advertising vest off and remove your jacket," I said over my shoulder as I closed and locked the door.

"You have a nice place, Mr. Compton," he said as he removed the vest and his jacket, revealing robins-egg blue, short sleeved cotton pull over.

"Thank you," I responded. "It's comfortable and I'm close to everything from here and the great thing is off-street parking. That is a big plus."

"I am sure it would be," he said as he turned around from placing his things over the back of a white leather recliner.


His tight pullover left nothing to the imagination. His chiseled torso was clearly revealed, and his nipples pushing against the cloth were a physical display of twin nipples. His thick biceps stretched the cloth and his forearms were covered with a thin growth of golden blond hair. The mouth watering bulge was even more alluring if that was possible.

"You must work out quite a bit, Trevor, you really do have nice physique," I said, beckoning him to follow me into the kitchen.

"Yes, Sir, thank you," he replied, hesitating at the doorway until I motioned him to a chair at the table. "I work out at the gym on campus with some of the other guys, and we do calisthenics when I'm on duty with the Corps," he said as he pulled a chair away from the table and sat down.

Feigning ignorance, I said, "You mean the Marine Corps?"

"Yes, Sir, we have training classes every other weekend on campus, and two weeks reserve training at Camp LeJeune, North Carolina during the summer. It's a little like when I went to boy's summer camp. Sometimes it sucked but, I liked it."

"I can't disagree with you, on the Marine Corps stuff; I served a four year stint in the Navy. I never went to summer camp, but around home, me and my buddies went skinny dipping in a creek." I said while pouring the coffee. "We had fun but I'm sure you guys did too. Do you take anything in your coffee, sugar, cream or would you like chicory or mocha additive for flavor?"

"Just a little sugar, Sir," he said. "I'm not much for exotic coffees."

"Me neither as a rule but, I do like a little chicory flavoring every now and then just to give it a kick," I said while setting his coffee on the table, and looking down at him. "I think you will like that blend, Trevor, but would you do me a favor and stop calling me mister or sir. I don't think I'm really that much older than you, but I feel older every time you address me in that manner, my name is Russell but my friends call me Russ."

"Its force of habit," he said softly, slightly spreading his legs apart as he took a sip of his coffee.

Sitting down and facing him, my eyes wantonly focused on his crotch. The large bulge had unwound and was snaking down his left pants leg. My cock responded and I was fortunate that my loose robe was hiding its growth or at least I thought it was, until Trevor sat his mug on the table and looked into my eyes and reached for the end of the belt that was only holding my robe partially closed. He smiled seductively and said, "It looks like you had something else on your mind when you asked me in for coffee, didn't you Russ?"

"Yes, I did but, not knowing if you enjoyed male sex, or if there was a chance that you might be gay, you can't blame me for trying or can you?. It's not every day that a good-looking, hunky stud like you knocks on my door," I said softly, breathing in deeply as he pulled the loose belt loop, letting my robe fall completely open.

Trevor's eyes widened as my open robe revealed my throbbing hard on. I heard him inhaling sharply, his eyes riveted on the rigid phallus nestled in my groin, proudly holding its head erect. As he exhaled, he said, "Jesus, Russ you don't have a damn thing to be ashamed of, I haven't seen anybody with your equipment and built like you for some time."

"Not even a marine or two?" I asked, standing and letting my robe fall to the floor.

"Not even a marine," he replied, removing his shoes before stripping his clothes off to reveal his beautifully muscled body and enormous cock and balls. Moving the very short distance between us, he slipped his arms around my waist and, I slipped mine around his chest. Tightening our arms in unison with our rigid cocks pressed tightly between us, our lips met.

His tongue fought mine in an erotic duel, exploring hidden crevices. His saliva tasted of cinnamon and, I wondered if he had taken a breath mint before I opened the door.