Date: Sun, 16 Oct 2016 17:50:59 +0000
From: tehl00zur@hotmail.com
Subject: Soaked

Soaked
by 'tehl00zur@hotmail.com'

This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities between characters or
events in this story and real people or events is purely coincidental.

I had a third cup of coffee. Far too much for me - I was sure I would
regret it later - but I couldn't say no to the guy waiting tables. He went
to the one other table in the restaurant still occupied to ask if they
wanted more coffee, and I couldn't stop myself enjoying the view. He turned
to go back to where he was wrapping silverware and once again looked my
way. I looked up to his face and smiled at him.

Until about an hour ago, the vacation hadn't been that exciting. The
mountain air and scenery were everything you could want, but the amount of
driving involved had got my blood pressure up. The first hot springs was
plenty scenic, but not nearly as hot as I had recalled, and the other one
was hardly any better, plus sulfur-scented. I'd decided to call an early
end to the vacation and head home that morning.

But then I got to the restaurant. It was one of the best reviewed in the
area, and even though it was a little out of my way, I had decided to give
it a try. Lucky thing, because in addition to good food and good coffee,
they employed one of the most gorgeous guys I've ever seen. His sparkling
blue-green eyes looked equally ready to crinkle in laughter or stare
soulfully into your own. His round cheeks had just a hint of rosy
brightness to them that excellently offset his smooth, perfect skin. His
short, dark blond hair looked soft as silk, but his most remarkable
feature, and the one to which my eyes were drawn as if magnetically, were
his full, soft, kissable red lips. I couldn't stop imagining my tongue
sliding between them.

And that added an extra layer of confusion to the matter. As much as I was
staring like a fourteen-year-old at a porn convention, he didn't seem
alarmed, or put off. I'd have expected him to take it badly, whatever team
he bats for. I'm not what you'd call a looker. My strong jaw and broad
shoulders are fine, and I lift weights so I've got some muscle, but my
flinty gray eyes aren't usually described as 'inviting' and I have gained a
little weight as I've gone into my early thirties. I couldn't imagine why
this breathtaking young man somewhere in his late teens or early twenties
would be interested.

But I had to try. I've always been terrible at flirting or picking up
signals, and if I knew one thing, it was that I'd never forgive myself if I
got in the car and drove off without seeing if anything might happen here.

Halfway through my fourth cup of coffee (god help me), he looked up from
his pile of neatly folded silverware straight at me - of course I was
looking at him, I couldn't take my eyes off him - and asked, presumably
directed at someone in the kitchen, if he could go on break. The muffled
answer must have been a yes, because he put down the last set of silverware
and headed out the door. I hesitated a moment - was I really going to try
this? - but then got up and followed.

He was in the parking lot, leaning against the wall of the restaurant,
twirling a car key around his index finger and staring off down the
valley. He looked over after a moment. I started to say something, but only
got as far as, "Hi, I'm-" before he put up a hand to stop me, then to
motion me to follow him. Swallowing nervously, I followed him to his car,
got in when he unlocked it, buckled up. He looked me up and down while
starting the car, then smiled at me. His smile was as brilliant as I had
imagined. I felt a warm flush run through my body and wash away the
anxiousness.

We drove in silence halfway across town before pulling into an alley a
minute and a half later. (It was a small town.) He drove about halfway down
and then pulled into a parking area. He shut off the car and got out, and I
followed suit. He opened the garage door next to us manually, with a key,
and then closed it again behind me once we were inside. Then he stopped and
looked up at me, half-smiling, shyly.

"We're doing this, huh?" he asked, a little nervously.

I smiled. I guess there wasn't a lot of opportunity for him in this small
mountain town. The thought that I could be his first sped my heart
up. "Only if you want to."

He stepped up next to me. "Oh, I do." Those hypnotic lips.

I couldn't wait any longer. I pressed my body against his, wrapped my arms
around him, and kissed him hard. His lips were softer than I could have
imagined, and parting them with my tongue sent an electric current through
me. His hands came to rest against the small of my back, then pressed into
me, pushing me against him. I was rapidly becoming as hard as I've ever
been, and I could feel that he was, too. I slid my hands down his sides to
the untucked bottom of his buttoned shirt, and then slid them back up
against his skin. He shivered, then lifted the back of my yellow t-shirt
and slid his hands inside the waistband of my jeans, gripping the elastic
of my orange Mack Weldon briefs.

I stroked his back down to waist-level, then around to his navel. He was
soft and just lightly padded, just the way I liked it. I began fumbling
with the buttons on his shirt, but he took his hands out of my pants,
grabbed my shirt, and pulled it quickly up over my head, forcing my arms
up. Then he grabbed the back of his own collar and pulled his shirt off
over his head. His smooth body and hard brown nipples were as beautiful as
his face, and the downy ring of hair around his navel turned into a trail
that I immediately followed to the button on his black jeans. Now on my
knees. I unbuttoned and unzipped them, and his white FTL briefs only made
me hungrier, so I tugged the jeans down to his waist and pulled his briefs
to the side.

I gently extracted five and a half inches of astonishingly thick,
rock-hard, uncut beauty. His clear precum was overflowing his foreskin,
leaving a trail of it stuck to his underpants.  I wrapped my hand around
the velvety skin, squeezed gently, and began to slide back and
forth. Looking up, his face was scrunched into an expression I recognized,
and he was panting hard. I didn't have time to react before he moaned, "Oh
nnn-" and like that, his hot, sticky cum began splashing in my face. I
gripped him tightly, not even able to close my hand entirely around his
thick, juicy dick, and massaged the rest of his load out onto my face,
neck, and chest.

I looked up at him, covered in his fluids, his manliness, and he
blushed. He tried to stammer out an apology, but before he could finish a
word, I pulled back his foreskin and wrapped my lips around his bright red
dick head. The apology turned into a moan of pleasure and I set to work. It
was hard to fit him in my mouth, as thick as his shaft was, but I've never
gotten a bad review on an oral presentation and I wasn't about to start
now. I licked and sucked at his thick, red head, his foreskin, then took
him into my mouth all the way to the back of my throat. Reflexively, he
bucked his hips, and I encouraged him until he was steadily fucking my
mouth.

Soon, his erection was back at full strength and I was nearly gagging. I
came off his mouth momentarily and he grabbed me by the armpits, pulled me
to my feet. He turned me around to point at a waist-level workbench and
shoved me toward it. With that massive, thick piece he was packing, he
didn't have to tell me twice. I went to it and he pushed me down onto it
while I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. He tugged my jeans and orange
briefs down, then pulled his halfway down his thighs. At last, my rigid
seven and a half inches swung free. I wiped some of his seed off my face
and chest, and slathered it on his dick and into my hole. He grabbed his
thick, stiff rod, lined it up, hesitated a moment. Then he took a deep
breath and pushed it in.

His gasp of pleasure nicely covered my grunt. I'd had ones almost this
thick before, but not often. His dick stretched me out in ways I hadn't
been sure I could stretch. Then he started to move in me, sending shocks of
pleasure and pain down every stretched-taut nerve. Soon he grabbed my hips
and pulled me back onto him with every stroke he drove into me. Panting
now, gasping for air, at last he reached his peak and spilled into me,
shooting a second powerful load into me, which set me off and had me
spurting all down the front of the workbench. He collapsed, drained, onto
my back, and for a minute we both lay like that, me bent over and him
resting on my back, both panting. When he finally got up and slid out of
me, we both were drenched in sweat and I was still sticky from his first
load.

"Beats the heck out of a sulfurous hot spring," I quipped. He smiled, and
tossed me a shop towel.

We both got dressed and headed out of the garage. "Find your way back to
the restaurant?" he asked, and I nodded. Then I fished out my wallet and
dug out a business card.

"If you're ever downslope, in town..." I trailed off. "Well, if you're ever
downslope you can have your choice of men, but if for whatever reason you
feel like it..." He nodded.

And, surprisingly, I did hear from him again, after a while. But that's a
story for another time.