‘Grab yourself a beer outta the fridge, Nelson,’ Lester yelled from the bathroom.
I actually didn’t drink, but when Lester had invited me back to his home to “crack one open” as an apology for blindsiding me during the pick-up football game, I just couldn’t refuse. I’d had a raging crush on the studly guy ever since junior year in high school, and now that I was eighteen and almost 100 per cent sure of my sexuality, I yearned to do something about it.
So, after staring into the fridge for a while, stalling, I sucked up some courage and tip-toed down the hallway towards the bathroom. The sound of running water was Pied Piper music to my pricked mouse ears, as I pictured luscious Lester soaping up his hard-rock body under the hot spray.
I slid along the wall to the doorjamb, excitedly noting that there was a crack of light spilling through the door, along with wisps of steam. Body temperature soaring, face burning red and pursed lips white, I peeked around the corner. And just about spontaneously combusted right on the spot.
Because there was All-American athlete-academic Lester – naked as the break of day and twice as bright and beautiful. His muscular, water-washed body gleamed on full display through the clear-paned shower door. He was soaping up his ebony physique almost exactly as I’d fantasized, the needle spray of heated water cascading over his handsome, fine-featured face, his powerful, mouth-watering torso.
I swallowed a yelp of exultation and bit down on my lip, my cock rising up like a goalpost in my grass-stained shorts. I praised the gridiron gods that be for the good luck of getting creamed by the bodacious ballplayer out on the football field.
Lester had always been out of my league up until then. He was a star on the football and track teams, while my biggest accomplishments were writing a video game review column for the school newspaper and playing third flute (badly) in the school band. Which is why I’d been shocked like the Colts in Super Bowl III when the guy had rung me up at home and invited me out to the game.
I sure wasn’t much of a player, what with my hands of stone and legs of lead. But I guess there was a shortage of guys just after graduation, tied down at summer jobs turned permanent or away on vacations before college in the fall. Either way, I was just ecstatic to get the call. Ecstatic, that is, until I was picked for Trent Duggan’s team and Lester laid me out like a tarp on the third play from scrimmage.
The guy with the gimpy knee covering me fell down a gopher hole or something, and Trent lobbed a balloon my way which even I could catch. But when I tried to turn it up-field, the 3:30 freight train named Lester slammed into me head-on.
He clocked me like Big Ben, smashing into my chest and sending my skin and the pigskin flying backwards for a five-yard loss. My tailbone crunched down on the tundra, and then my head, whiplash-fashion. I saw more stars than most astronomers. It took three guys to peel me off the terra way-too-firma and unfold me into an upright position again – one of them being the dude who’d really taken my breath away this time, the grinning Lester.
I sat out the rest of the game, nursing my hurting head and body, running through the alphabet to make sure there wasn’t any permanent damage. And then Lester had unexpectedly invited me to take a ride in his souped-up Honda back to his parents’ place, the guy obviously having a heart to go along with his hard-body, handsomeness, and as I saw now, hungage.
Because as I crowded the crack in the doorway, I was thrilled to ogle a most wicked dong dangling large even soft from Lester’s pube-pebbled loins. The aches and pains in my body and head were instantly swept away by a raging sea of hormones. My sexuality had always been a bit of a question mark to me – and others – but now, staring at that shining, soap and water-streaked muscleman in the transparent shower stall, at his dripping, hanging horse-cock, all the awkward questions were finally answered. I wanted that fellow man like a toilet seat wants ass.
Lester ran the pink bar of soap in between his quad-bunched legs, under and around his heavy balls, his cock jumping, foam rising up and surging around his groin, as well as the edges of my mouth. And as I stared and drooled, I desperately tried to strategise some sort of game plan, some kind of seduction scenario that would put me where that soap was.
But I drew a complete mental blank, my usually rational mind running on empty thanks to a lack of blood. I couldn’t even get playback on one of the 1001 episodes of “Nelson Does Lester” that I’d spooled through my fevered imagination as I’d jacked gallons over the past two years.
My hand drifted down to my shorts, and I touched my yard-marker, gaping at the hunk running the bar of suds back and forth on his thick, veiny, night-shaded dong. I licked my lips, almost tasting the meat. I ran my free hand up into my T-shirt, over my heaving, hairless chest, and caught a flared nipple between my trembling fingers, rolled it. I groaned, my face and body burning, the steam from my ears and the shower billowing, the well-built man lathering his well-built genitals blistering my eye and other balls.
I moved my hand back and forth on my clothed cock, shifting into a familiar stroking motion; and accidentally knocked the door even further open. It creaked, I croaked. And Lester swung his head away from the spray and looked at the tall, goofy, redheaded guy with the blazing blue eyes staring at him from the doorway. His ears were evidently just as sharp as his elbows.
He grinned, waved me in.
My mouth clanged open and my hands dropped to my sides. I stayed rooted to the spot.
He rinsed himself off and opened the stall door and stepped out of the tub, gesturing at me again.
Someone – must’ve been me – finally broke through the shyness barrier and pushed the door all the way open, took a step inside the steambox. Then another, my feet moving all on their own.
‘Wanna use the shower?’ the ebony god asked, grabbing up a fresh white towel and rubbing his face with it.
‘Huh?’ I replied, lurching forward like Frankendork.
I was fully inside the humid chamber, 2/10ths of a first down away from the towelling stud. I ratcheted my zombie gaze down from his smooth, muscle-humped chest, his prominent, coal-black nipples, his ribbed stomach, all the way down to his oh-so-impressive cut cock and pubed balls. Time stood still, like my heart.
Lester glanced up at my bowed head from behind his towel, pearly-whites flashing. Then he flung the towel over a cinderblock shoulder and casually closed the gap between us, saying, ‘Guess you got a pretty bad bruise where I hit you, huh? Let’s see.’
He yanked my T-shirt out of my shorts, and before I could drop the ball and flee for the sidelines, I was trapped in the garment, helping the African-American Adonis pull it up over my head.
‘Hey, that’s not too bad,’ he said, poking at the small, cherry-red splotch under my right nipple.
‘That’s a birthmark,’ I mumbled through the stretched cotton. I pulled the T-shirt right over my head, revealing the large, purple blotch high up on my left pec that my arm had been hiding.
‘Ouch,’ Lester commented. ‘Does it hurt bad?’ He poked it.
Was there pain? Probably. But all that registered in my tingling body was the sweet kiss of the guy’s soft fingertip against my heated skin. I dropped my shirt on the black and white tile, my short, red hair standing up on my head like the even shorter hairs were standing up on my neck, and balls.
Lester’s fingertip traced the blue borders of the Oregon-shaped bruise, tracing fire in my loins every millimetre of the way, my body ablaze with sensitivity. Until he brushed rigid nipple, and my knees buckled. He played the tip of his finger over my erect, pink nipple, charging it even more erect, a thoughtful expression on his face.
‘You probably got a bruise when you hit the ground, too, huh?’ he said.
‘Wanna see?’ I rasped, head and mouth full of cotton.
He nodded, pulling his finger away from my puny chest which was a pale imitation of his broad chest. The things on the ends of my arms – hands, you’d call them – found the elastic waistband on my shorts and pushed down, kept pushing down. Until my outer and inner shorts were around my knees and my rock-hard cock bounced up and into the open, every pulsing, precocious, pink inch of it.
Lester looked at my twitching cock, my twitching face, then grasped my narrow shoulders and turned me around. ‘Ouch again,’ I heard him say. Before feeling his glorious fingers against my skin, gently touching the bruised tailbone that he’d planted in the turf so hard.
‘Sorry about that, man. Maybe I should offer you more than a beer to make up for things, huh?’ His fingers rubbed just above my crack, slid down into my butt cleavage.
I gasped. And then his warm, strong hands were on my clenched buttocks, rubbing, squeezing. ‘Geez!’ I groaned, leaning back into the guy, the jelly content in my legs soaring to 99.9 per cent.
Lester gripped and kneaded my trembling butt cheeks, his wet mouth on my neck, kissing and licking my brimming skin. I felt his cock against my ass, rising up and filling my crack, his tongue swirling in behind my ear. He gently pumped his hips, driving his hard prick further in between my cheeks, his wet tongue in my ear setting my head to buzzing. And then his hands were on my chest, cupping and squeezing my pecs, long fingers pinching and rolling my needful nipples. I burned with a wicked, tingling sensation, floating on Cloud Ten.
Lester spun me around and clasped me in his strong arms, our hard cocks grinding together. Then he pressed his mouth against my mouth, his thick lips moving against my lips, the blowtorch heat from our naked bodies melding us together.
He pulled his mouth back, thoughtfully gauging my reaction. I couldn’t manage any words, though, the fiery first kiss, the super-sensual sensation of another guy’s pulsating prick against my prick, rendering me speechless. But when he licked at my quivering lips with a cotton candy pink tongue, I spoke volumes to the guy by grabbing on to his head and mashing my mouth into his.
I was flaming full-out homosexual for the very first time in my life, overcome with joy, a man actually in my arms, against my lips and cock. I jammed my tongue into his mouth and we swirled our slippery mouth organs together, surging with erotic energy.
‘How ’bout that shower?’ he eventually asked, after I’d chased his tongue back into his mouth. He grinned at me, slowly sliding his shaft up and down against my shaft. I bobbed my dizzy head.
And I just about lost my head, jumped right out of my skin, when the big guy closed his big mitt over my throbbing cock and towed me over to the shower stall. My whole body pulsed, the heartbeat in my hand-wrapped dick going like a rabbit.
I somehow managed to pull my socks off while Lester, still gripping my cock, got the hot water going again. ‘Let’s clean you up,’ he said, pulling me into the tub with him. ‘Then we’ll see how dirty we can get ya.’
His hands were all over me, soaping, rubbing, fondling. I just stood there and let the player with the soft hands on and off the field detail me, steam seeping into my ears and fogging my brain, my body a liquid mass, cock straight and tight as one of the guy’s spirals. And when he scrubbed around my balls, up and down my pole, I thought for sure I’d jet soft-soap all over the place.
‘How ’bout cleaning a certain body part of mine – with your mouth?’ Lester suggested, pointing at his own pipe.
I dropped to my knees in a swoon, getting eye-to-eye with the oiled, noir snake. Its veined-popped skin glistened, its giant hooded head bobbing. I’d never sucked a cock before in my life – let alone a monster cock – and I suddenly feared I would blow it – in a bad way.
But Lester had confidence in my abilities, gripping his club at the base with one hand and steering my head forward with the other. His huge, purple-black hood pushed against my lips, and I remembered to open my mouth. The bloated bulb glided in between my lips, into my mouth, and I was tasting the soft, chewy flesh, tugging on it.
‘Yeah, that’s the way,’ Lester groaned encouragement. He placed his hands on either side of my head, guiding me forward.
I grabbed his hips and watched, cross-eyed, as the gleaming shaft slid into my mouth, more and more of it. It was an awesome feeling, mouthing a man’s meat, feeling the power of dong pulsating away on my tongue. Then Lester’s cock reached my capacity and his cap bumped up against the back of my throat. I gagged. He pulled back a little, so I could swallow some spit, and then he started undulating his hips, fucking my mouth with his cock.
Water hissed off the stud’s back and steam rose like my blood pressure, as I moved my head back and forth, matching Lester’s movements. I was actually sucking the man’s cock, my lips greasing up and down his boiled shaft. And he praised my efforts by grunting and clutching at my hair, pulling on his nipples.
I got bold and grabbed his balls, weighing the heavy sack in my hand, squeezing it even as I wet-vacced his dick. He shuddered, muscles dancing all over his shimmering body. I sucked faster, harder, scraping the skin a bit but really blowing the man.
Until he jerked his dong out of my mouth and left me gasping, gaping empty and hungry. I desperately wanted to gorge some more on his meat, have him fill my mouth with his lust, taste another man’s salty essence. But Lester had other ideas. He pulled me to my feet and spun me around. Then he went to his knees in behind me, spreading my cheeks apart and without hesitation driving his tongue into my asshole.
‘God!’ I bleated, plastering my hands up against the slippery tiles, legs quivering.
Lester burrowed his tongue deep into my virgin anus, the warm, wet sticker sending raw bolts of sexual electricity arcing throughout my body. He licked all around my pucker, up and down my exposed crack, down to my tightened balls, flogging them with his tongue. I full-body shivered, my feet slipping out from under me.
‘Time to go for the end zone,’ he growled, letting go of my buzzing bottom and rising to his feet.
I stared over my shoulder and watched him grab up the soap and slicken his nightstick, felt him lather up my butthole. Then he dropped the cake of lube and grabbed onto my waist with his left hand, steered his cockhead against my anus with his right. ‘Fuck me,’ I breathed. ‘Please fuck my ass.’
I bit blood out of my lip, shaking out-of-control as the pressure mounted on my pucker. His hood bulged my butthole. And then he was inside me, popping my anal cherry and sliding his cock into my chute smooth and slick and sultry.
I dug my fingernails into the grout and groaned, a strange, heavy, superheated sensation unlike anything I’d ever felt before suffusing me. I had a man’s cock up my ass. I could hardly believe it, the full-up feeling wild and wonderful, utterly blissful, overwhelming sensual. I closed my eyes, in sexual heaven.
Lester’s muscled thighs pressed up against my cheeks, and I realised with a jolt that he was all the way inside me, thundercock buried to the balls in my skinny butt. And I’d taken it like a man, with hardly a whimper. I beamed with pride. He grasped my waist with both hands and rolled his hips, shifting his dong back and forth in my stretched-out chute, fucking me.
My head spun and my body smouldered, the erotic sawing sending shivers of delight chasing shivers of delight. My ass swelled up and went super-charged, my numb-hard cock bouncing in rhythm to Lester’s thrusting. He pulled me upright, gripped me tight around the chest, smacking against me faster and harder, cock brutally pistoning my electrified chute.
‘Oh … God!’ I moaned jerkily. His tongue was in my ear, his fingers on my nipples, cock plundering my hole.
‘Want me to come in your ass, man!?’ he gritted, biting into my earlobe.
‘Yes! Please … come in my ass!’
He torqued up the pressure even more, and I grabbed onto my flapping cock. And the instant contact sent me boiling over the edge, my senses blistered raw. My prick was a lit fuse and I exploded, blasting thick ropes of semen out of my flaming dicktip with every frantic stroke of my hand, of Lester’s cock. I came with a fearsome intensity, sperm spurting forever out of my broken hose of a cock, as the muscle-stud splashed against my shuddering ass in a frenzy.
‘Fuck, I’m coming too!’ he howled, savagely churning my chute. Hot semen sprayed my bowels, over and over, the both of us blazing our ecstasy in the midst of that sizzling steam heat.
Afterwards, as I lay cuddled in Lester’s arms in a warm, soothing bath, my butt sore but oh-so-satisfied, the sexual athlete revealed his own special seduction technique. ‘Stick ’em, then stick him,’ he stated bluntly, before laughing. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time he’d nailed a guy he fancied on the football field, then “apologised” by nailing the dude back on his home turf.
Lester was a player, all right.