Date: Fri, 7 Feb 2014 17:29:17 -0500 From: Mads van Duessen Subject: Gym Stretch Part 9 Hope you enjoy reading my stories. If you do enjoy these types of stories and the convenience of entertaining yourself with a few clicks, PLEASE donate to nifty.org using this URL/link http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Part 9 – Gym Stretch Jack had managed to get me out of his apartment, though as starved for lunch as I was, the promise of that was nothing compared to the idea of fucking him again – not even close. I'd tried a few ways to distract him or entice him, feeling up his massive cock and bull balls in his slacks on the way down the stairs, which basically almost got us both a serious fall and ultimately got him changing positions with me on the stairs, pushing me down the stairs in front of him. To his credit, though, he stopped me as I sulked across the bottom floor toward the door and wrapped his arms around me and said, "Promise you with some fuel in me it'll be even better afterward," and gave me a kiss that I'm surprised didn't cause us both to combust then and there. We'd decided to walk – we both wanted to. I really like walking – well anything physical, so walking, biking whenever it's feasible – so it was nice to see Jack did, too. Then again his perfectly muscled wrestler's body didn't get that way or didn't stay that way from lazing around or even from trips to the gym. It was natural muscle, hard-gained on his frame and well-positioned in every respect. "Uh, Mads," he interrupted my reverie. We'd walked about four blocks, about eleven more to go to get to my condo, where I was going to put on some nicer clothes. He had on beautiful slacks and a polo shirt, and I was wearing the only clothes I had at his house, my gym clothes from the day before, which he'd thoughtfully washed while I slept in this morning. The price was he confiscated my sweaty, well-used, stinking, filthy jock strap and had given me a pair of his boxer-briefs to wear under my gym shorts this morning instead. He'd also told me that he'd had some enjoyment with my jock strap this morning by himself. "Tell me more about you and my jock strap this morning," I said, throwing him and evil grin. "Is THAT why your cock is about to burst out of your running shorts?" he asked, gesturing down toward my crotch. "Shit!" I said, but laughing, as I indiscreetly reached down inside my gym shorts and the boxer brief and repositioned my throbbing rod straight up so it was at least not quite as obvious. Jack laughed with me, but his eyes also burned holes in my shorts, and I swear there was just a hint of drool at the corner of his mouth. "Told ya I needed some before we left!" I said petulantly. Jack just reached over and caught me around my neck in the crook of his arm – a decent feat given our height difference, but he did it effortlessly – and pulled me against him and kissed the side of my face. "Stud, you could use me up, leave me for waste with my balls imploded, and you'd still be hard and ready for the next one," he said, and he kissed me again and riffled my hair. He didn't let go of me, though, and I liked it. I slipped my arm around Jack's waist, wondering if he'd be uncomfortable at the intensified public display of affection. It was he, after all, who had kissed me and held me next to him as we were walking. And, obviously, it didn't bother him in the slightest because what he did so was take his hand on that side and reposition my hand so that it was flat around his side, on his obliques through his shirt, rather than loosely on his pants waist. And he didn't take his hand away after that either. FUCK I was so gone on this guy. He'd fucked me silly – literally. We bumped along that way until we were close to my condo, and we were walking past a diner-type coffee shop. The aroma was great as we closed in, and Jack suggested we just go in and grab lunch, instead of me going home to change first. "Besides – you look incredible with those long legs on display and that t-shirt hugging your pecs and abs." I blushed and turned to him, stunning in that perfectly-fitted polo shirt of his and slacks which I swear were tailored so that his bulge and his ass were framed for absolute maximum display. "Says the man in bespoke perfection. Don't know if you realize it or not, but you had me at `bend over'," I said, and with an evil grin I added, "And my place is a block away, and you could say it again right now, and we'd be DOING IT within two minutes!" I'd moved in, against him, close, our clothes and bodies behind them touching, my still-hard cock against his groin, and I knew his cock was responding. "Maaaaadddssssss," he groaned, and he put his forehead against my cheek. We stood that way for a few beats, and we were interrupted by Hilda, a waitress I knew from there, coming out and saying, "Just had a table open up if you two are leaning toward real food instead of devouring each other." We both turned, blushing but laughing. "That's very kind of you, miss," Jack said, earning a blush from Hilda, who I often over-tipped because I felt sorry for an old woman who had to work, much less work so hard as she did. Hilda held the door, and as Jack and I passed through, she whispered in my ear, "That's quite a man you got yourself there, Mads." Oh, Hilda, if you even had the remotest idea, you'd be blushing a lot more than at Jack's smile and `miss'. We'd both ordered, Hilda had finally torn herself away from Jack's over-attentions and intoxicating smile, and my stomach was fluttering. Not from hunger, though I was famished – no, I suddenly realized we'd have to talk to each other, and I had no idea how that would go. Last night when we settled in to do that, I managed to ignite Jack again, and he banged me like a shutter in a nor'easter. Likely I couldn't get that done here, in the booth in the coffee shop. "I'd say, `tell me something about yourself' but that'd be a little trite, wouldn't it?" Jack asked, his gaze intent and direct. "So here's a question." I'm sure I gulped that breath in. Jack just reached across and put his hand out on the table, up, obviously for me to put mine in his. I did, and he clasped it and rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. "You feel good," he said. "You always feel good." "That's not a question," I said with a smile. He just gazed at me intently, though a smile was there, too. "And yes, you always feel good to me, too." Hilda was there with water and silverware and napkins. "You know, boys, Mads here was my most handsome customer," she said. I blurted out, "I know, I know, now Jack will displace me," laughing. "NO," she said sharply, in a tone I'd only seen her use with very rare rude customers and once with the cook, "Now I've got two of you who are the most handsome customers I have. Looks like it's not only your," and she turned and looked pointedly at me, "Lucky day, young man, but mine, too!" She gave me a wink and turned to Jack. "Watch this one – he's a handful – but he's a good handful." Jack squeezed my hand and grinned, that grin setting me spinning in the blaze of it all over me. "I plan to, and yes he is, very much, both." Neither of us was looking at Hilda, so I've no idea when she left our table, but it was him and me, just gazing stupidly at each other. And I'll admit here and now that it was great – I wished he'd been balls-deep inside me, but this was almost as great as that. Jack's lips moved, and I was suddenly lost in thoughts of those lips crushed against mine, our kiss fiery and full of need for each other. But then my brain caught up and his words popped into my head, like a movie where the sound and the picture are out of synch. He'd asked the question. "This is hypothetical, this question. If we were to run away today to a faraway place where we'd be together, just us, whom would you have to tell you were leaving and what would you have to do?" Wow, he even knew how to use `whom' correctly! I thought Americans never did – I only did because of learning English as a second language (or fourth), and studying it for years, grammar and all. "Tell ya what," Hilda's voice crashed in on both of us, startling us. "If he won't go, I will, and I don't need to tell ANYone! Heck, I don't even have a cat at home waiting for me!" she cracked. We both laughed and separated our hands so she could serve our lunches. After she left, I asked, "It really IS just hypothetical, Jack, isn't it?" looking down at my plate. He reached over and cocked my chin up with his hand so we were eye to eye again. "This time it's just a way to find out some things about your life, Mads. This time," he said, and I felt my body spark with . . . hope. JESUS MADS SNAP OUT OF IT! A FEW FUCKS AND YOU'RE HOPING FOR HAPPILY EVER AFTER. IT'S A FUCKING MIRACLE YOU'RE DRESSED AND HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH ANY GUY WHO'S FUCKED YOU! Of course, this was right. "So is that just a way to find out how many other fuckbuds use my ass? Asking how many I'd have to text to tell I'm off the market?" It landed like a slap on Jack's face, far more pointedly than I'd intended, but clearly he'd taken it hard. Very quietly he said, "No, that's not at all what I was asking," and he picked up his fork and moved some vegetables around on his plate, not looking at me. Well, shit. I knew I'd fuck it up. I always do. It had been fun to be something other than the slut I am for a while, though. It had felt good to have Jack THINK I was special, and not because I'd fooled him into it or tried to be anything other than what I really am. That had felt REALLY good. It seemed like forever, but I know it wasn't really. We played with our food, neither really eating much. No words. But the short time gaped out into forever in the distance sitting there together after that. "I'm sorry, Mads," Jack suddenly said. I expected something like `this was a mistake' or `I forgot I have to be somewhere' or something after, but that's not what happened. What happened was he put his hand out on the table again, like he had before. I looked at his hand, and I looked at him, looking at me with a hint of expectation, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I could just not take his hand, finish this awkward lunch, GO, and erase everything after the last time we came, and it would be just like it was yesterday at this time. Life would be orderly and acceptable. I'd be the slut I am, filling my free time by having my ass filled by men who love to use it . . . and me. I'd be in my comfortable role, where I'm three people – the slut, the accountant and the loner, whose social interaction is usually limited to the team sports I participate in-- "HOLY SHIT!" I shouted. The coffee shop seemed like it must have gone quieter just in time for me to yell that because most everyone was turned toward me, toward us actually. I flushed a little and looked back at Jack. Amazingly, his hand was still there, offered to me despite my long indecision. Did I leap once more, here, now, on this tenuous limb he'd pulled me out on last night? Wait, no, he didn't pull me anywhere. I went WITH him out on that limb, after he'd taken the first step to show me he wanted to that much, and we'd both been there, together, despite my fears and reservations. That was my choice, and it was fucking awesome to be out there on that limb with him. It was more than awesome, it was RIGHT! I didn't so much as put my hand in his as I GRABBED his hand and squeezed it and held it tight and looked right into his face. "Um, I'm not sure what just happened in that complex brain of yours when you went to that other place, the place that seems like it's dark, just then Mads," Jack said, holding my hand back, again rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. "I'm a mess," I said with a sigh. "You're a HOT mess, though, to distort the colloquialism," he said with a smile that made me blush. "Talk to me, Mads. I LOVE the sex, but I want us to . . . " He stopped, and this time he looked down, breaking our eye contact. I squeezed his hand. "Hey!" I said, and his eyes came back up to mine. "I never said I'm easy to get to know – I'm just EASY," I said with an evil grin. Jack half-responded with a tentative smile. "I don't like when you put yourself down, Mads." He said quietly. "I don't think of you that way, and I don't think it's fair of you to make that be the important characteristic of you, to let it define you. Or," he went on carefully, "To take refuge in it." "Wow," I said. Jack and I were quiet, but we were still holding hands, still looking at each other. I was there again, on the brink, could walk away back into my familiar shadows and neither of us would have to give the other a second thought after this amazing interlude. Wait, no, that wouldn't be how it was. No, I was already out there, enjoying the sun of his smiles, of his body, of his presence with me in life. And that wouldn't just go away out of my head and out of my soul if I took it away from me. I shivered a little – OK, a lot, and Jack just held my hand tighter. BIG BREATH. "That limb was shaking for a minute there," I said, attempting to break my fall despite the fact that I was falling – had fallen. "Mads, the limb wasn't shaking. You just looked down," Jack said with a smile. "Look out instead. Look at what's out there, what's there . . . for us." "Well," I said with another big breath, "One thing that's out there is my baseball team is going to be really pissed off because our game started over an hour ago, and I'm not there! See how you DICKstract me, Mr. Torrance?" Jack grinned and said, "I bet you look HOT in your baseball uniform." He was getting the hang of this game. "Won't be the same without my luckiest jock strap holding my sweat-reeking cup in place," I said, wistfully, "But guess my second luckiest jock strap will have to do," I said, with a wicked grin. Jack's eyes fluttered a little. "Should we go so you can get in the rest of the game?" he asked, though his breath was uneven, and I could tell that wasn't what he was thinking of going and doing. "That's NOT why we should go," I said with my best COME FUCK ME voice. But just as Jack was about to launch out of the booth I went on, "But first, let's eat. You're going to need those calories when we get to my place, STUD!" "Tell ya one thing," he said, after a minute composing himself and another gulp. "You're walking in front of me on the way, or we'll be arrested for lewd public display, as hard as you've got me." "Eat fast," I admonished and dug in. Less than ten minutes later we were crashing against the sides of the elevator in my building, groping, kissing, licking, biting, grinding. Thankfully, it was a quiet middle of the Saturday in my building, the elevator being empty when it had opened and no stops on other floors on our way up to mine, the sixth. When the doors opened on six, Jack had me by the waistband of my gym shorts, pulling me out into the hall roughly, urgently. Then, suddenly going all OH, we're in public, on me and letting me go abruptly. "I liked it better when you were dragging me like a caveman," I took a moment to joke, as he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his ginormous raging bone in his slacks. To my joke, Jack reached out and grabbed my own raging cock through my shorts and pulled me into him, roughly covering my mouth for a kiss full of intent. "That better?" he grinned into my lips, both of our chests heaving against each other, our cocks throbbing into each other's crotches. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" I groaned against him. "Not yet!" he huffed into my lips. "Then come on," I almost yelled, pulling us both down the hall to the end door. I put my hand on a small screen above the doorknob, and the keypad lit up, then put my twelve-digit-code in. I could feel Jack's surprise. I also heard the lock move and then, as I smirked at him and said, "You're not the only one with toys," I opened the door and got him inside. Jack had never let go of my cock. "I know," he leered, squeezing my cock harder as I kicked the door closed behind us. "Right now this is the only one I care about," he growled, shoving me back against the wall and holding me there with his body slammed against mine. We were kissing ravenously, groping desperately and grinding so hard together I wonder how we didn't cause any muscle strain. Then suddenly Jack was licking and biting down the side of my neck and pulling up my t-shirt at the same time, and then he popped my shirt over my head and was back kissing and biting my collar bone and then my pec and then had his teeth on one nipple. I hissed loudly, and he went to work on the other with his fingers while he continued to chew and suckle and lick. My body was convulsing with the jolts of joy Jack's body against mine, his hands, his lips, his teeth and his tongue were giving me. My cock was throbbing and screaming for his hand again, and I was shoving it into his abs and sternum as he continued to work my pecs, growling and moaning all the while. His other hand had a firm hold on my one butt cheek, curiously tight and yet not adding to my sore fuckhole's distress at all. Then his mouth was moving down my abs, kissing each mound, tongue flicking along each rut between them, sucking, licking. He had both hands full of my asscheeks, massaging gently but more so possessing them, igniting an entirely new level of need and want and urgency inside me. "GOD, Jack, just FUCK ME PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEE!" I begged, as my hands groped his muscular shoulders through his soft polo shirt and pulled at his hair. As his lips hit my waistband, his hands moved up and inside and pulled them down to my ankles easily. My slimy-headed ;cock burst out and smacked his face, and I knew my precum had splattered on him and elsewhere. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he moaned, licking his lips, his cheek against my shaft. "I love that you're big, Mads. I fucking LOVE every bit of your body," he said, shoving his nose into my pubes and inhaling deeply. "JAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK," I moaned. As I was still crying out his name, his mouth enveloped me, and one of his hands took a firm grip on my big hanging sac. "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" I moaned louder. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he growled around my cock when it hit the back of his throat, and he pushed down farther, still moaning, which made my feet almost rise off the floor as the jolt shot through my already-throbbing cock. His pull on my balls helped him get his nose buried in my pubes, too, and that got more of a "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmm," at the end of the moan from him, sending my head slamming back against the wall and thrashing side-to-side. "I'm not going to be able to—" He was off my cock almost all the way, having sucked my shaft all the way up, his tongue flat and massaging my pulsing shaft, and now he had his mouth sucking my head HARD, that tongue – that AMAZING tongue – swirling around my head, attacking my piss slit, massaging just under the ridge. Jack's tight grip remained on my sac, pulling, squeezing, massaging, rolling them around, pulling more, all in perfect strategy to send bolts of pure ecstasy through me. And then he was down my shaft again, and I felt his nose hit my groin as my "FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" resounded through the room. He worked me like that, and every time I started to yell, "OH, GOD, I'M cl---" he'd pull it down a notch, just keeping me there, on the edge. Sometimes it was stopping the humming of whatever exclamation he was making in his throat, sometimes it was moving his tongue a different way or somewhere else, sometimes it was reducing suction on my head, but always it caused me go "GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!" or something in protest to keeping me hanging on that edge. At one point, who knows how long later – my body was wracked with desire to have him pull me over the edge FINALLY after many, many near explosions – he miscalculated when he'd had me right on the edge and shoved his mouth down all the way to my base again with very little suction or pressure from his lips and none from his tongue on my shaft. I pretty much screamed at that point and beat on his shoulders after pulling out any hair on his head I could get a grip on with my fingers on his sweaty scalp, and he laughed with my cock in his throat. It was like his throat was fluttering on my head, like his tongue had before, and that time my grip went back to his hair, I pulled his head tighter against my groin, and with a loud, "AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG," I blasted down his throat. My hips were bucking, and I didn't think until after that I easily could have broken his nose, maybe even a cheekbone - that's how out of control with that climax he'd made me. I finally disengaged my fingers from his hair, again pulling some out as I did it urgently, and SHOVED him back off me so hard he fell sideways and back onto his ass there in my hallway. "OH FUCKING JESUS H. CHRIST!" I exclaimed, panting for breath. Jack swiped the back of his hand over his slimy lips and face, and when his hand passed, the self-satisfied grin/leer that had replaced his surprise when he went over was epic. And he said nothing – he just propped himself up on one elbow, sprawled out there on the floor in his pricey threads, leering up at me. Our eyes burned into each other. But also, the look of pure satisfaction on this man after pleasuring me that way, was making my stomach bounce. Jack's eyes were so expressive, not only of the self-satisfaction of giving me one of the most amazing orgasms I'd ever had – and he never touched my ass! – but there was also this look of possession and achievement that complemented a look of . . . joy. "What is it?" I finally said, self-conscious. His face changed subtly to a broad warm smile which surrounded and shadow-boxed the leer of sexual satisfaction and ownership. "I've never gazed at you from this angle," he said in a voice which was full of possession. I was standing there, the wall behind me holding me up, my dick hanging in the wind, cum dripping off it, sweaty, spent, still not breathing regularly. "You're amazing, Mads," he said, and I felt myself flush. In response to my flush, which he obviously saw, he smiled his broadest smile again, which made my knees even weaker. "And," he said slowly after a long pause, our eyes locked, "I'm pretty sure you're mine." Inside I jumped up, ran, as far and as fast as I could. But I couldn't take my eyes off his, so it was all inside. Except, apparently, for my eyes. "You know what else?" he said, getting up and coming to face me. I still couldn't break our eye contact. Was Jack a hypnotist? A warlock? OH SHIT – a vampire? They entrance you right before they suck your blood out, don't they? But blood wasn't what he'd sucked. And thinking that made my skin awash with heat again. And that was just the most recent of what we'd done, what he'd done to me, since late the prior afternoon. When he was right in front of me he stopped and put his hand – not the one he'd wiped his face with – on the side of my head and caressed me. I had been looking into his eyes, but his touch made me close them and lean into his hand. Very softly, his lips close enough to brush mine when he spoke, he said, "And I'm yours, Mads – I'm all-in here." As he kissed my lips and I opened to him, I was hoping that limb we were both out on was still strong enough to hold us. If you enjoyed yourself reading this and want to send me feedback, it's welcome: madsvand@gmail.com. Now do not forget: being entertained this way with a few clicks and scrolls costs money for the site to be maintained to keep this available for us. PLEASE donate to nifty.org using this URL/link http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html