Monday, February 21, 2011

A Visit from Scruffy

“No one else makes me feel the way you do.” Scruffy looked up at me from only inches away as I drove my dick deeper inside him. The sensation of my hardness parting his hole and popping open the next ring made his neck drop. He stared through the slats of the blinds for a moment, jaw slack, the legs hooked over my shoulders the only thing separating our chests. Then he raised his head again and, with great effort, looked me in the eyes. “I’ve never had anyone in my life fuck me as good as you.”

It’s the kind of thing every top wants to hear. Hell, it’s the kind of thing any man wants to hear, as he’s slamming his third load into a quivering, helpless hole.

I’d heard from Scruffy earlier in the week. It’s been almost four months since I saw the kid last; we’d had a brief exchange of text messages around Christmas and the new year, but the trip never materialized that he’d planned to my area from middle of the state, where he’s currently living with his mom. He told me Wednesday that he was planning to visit his ex in my city while he checked out a couple of job opportunities. My Saturday was his, I’d told him.

He showed up around five, after a day of visiting with the ex and driving to various potential employers. Scarcely was he in the side door when he bolted into my arms. Our mouths devoured each other. His teeth raked against my lips, my jaw, my chin, as he tried to inhale me all at once. I shoved him against the stairwell wall, causing his breath to huff out in a rush. For long, long minutes we made out in the dusk without saying a word.

“I missed you,” he finally said. “Fuck, did I miss you.”

“I did too, kid,” I replied. His face was clean-shaven. Without the layer of scruff and fuzz he normally wears, he looked like an all-American kid—curly-haired and blond, freckled, and blue-eyed, the kind of boy every suburban moms dreams her son will grow up to be.

We kissed some more until he pushed me away and gasped for air. Those Delft-blue eyes bored into mine. “Am I still your boy?” he wanted to know.

“Yes,” I answered. “Of course. You’re still my boy.”

He responded by melting into my arms.

Once we were upstairs, we rolled around on the bed for long minutes, kissing and grinding our denimed crotches against each other. He didn’t want to talk much. He didn’t want to catchup, or tell me about his job hunt. He wanted my mouth on his, my beard on his neck, my hot breath on his ears. He wanted me pushing my hardness into his own, and my hands down his pants with my fingers teasing and probing at his hole.

When I pushed him against the pillows and yanked up his shirt to rake my face against his tender, white skin, he smelled of soap and body spray. I knew he’d sprayed himself with that stuff because he’d known I’d smell it it on him, and tell him how nicely scented he was. He flushed with pleasure when I did, and I had a sudden mental picture of him in his ex’s bathroom, showering for me, washing his most private places. Spraying himself with Axe where he knew my face and lips would travel. Primping in the mirror. Selecting his clothing, knowing that I’d remove every piece. The care he’d taken flattered me.

I repaid it by undressing him. He obediently lifted his hands over his head while I removed his shirt like I was undressing a little boy, then raised his hips for me when I unfastened and slowly pulled off his jeans and shorts. He murmured with pleasure when I laid my clothed body atop him, roughing up his soft, pale skin with my denim and my stubble. My nails raked across his nipples, causing him to gasp. And then I sucked him, slowly and carefully, savoring every drop of pre-cum that began to ooze from the tip of his thick meat.

Scruffy managed to gather enough force of will to roll out from under me. I allowed him to unbutton my jeans and to pull them off. On his knees, he removed my socks and rolled them together. Then he settled back onto the mattress and took my dick in his mouth. “Did you miss that dick?” I wanted to know.

“So much,” he gasped, releasing it momentarily. “Fuck. I needed this dick. It was made for me. Your dick was made for my holes.”

“Good boy,” I whispered, and placed my hand gently on the back of his neck. Over the year and more we’ve known each other, Scruffy has learned how to suck me—long, slurping strokes with a minimum of teeth and just the right amount of pressure. He’s had me close to coming many times, with his blow jobs. That’s more than most men can say.

Saturday he was doing something different from before, however. Like most guys, Scruffy can get most my dick in his mouth, but the last two inches are a little bit of a challenge. Saturday he decided to try out some newly-acquired deep-throating skills. He would take as much of my dick in his mouth as possible, then push down onto my fuckspear to impale his own throat. Every time he did it, I’d feel the effort it would take him. Then I’d feel the delicious tightness of his deepest muscles around the head of my dick, and the feeling of his lips around the lowermost base of my shaft. For a moment, he’d struggle to control his choking. Then he’d back off, breath in heavily through his nose, and try it again.

I let him deep-throat me for a long, intense few minutes, and then I pulled him off my dick. He stared at me with what I could only interpret as adoration. Tears were streaming from both eyes; his face was streaked, wet, and red. “You okay, boy?” I asked him.

“I want to make you feel good,” he rasped out.

“You are.” I cupped his chin in my hand. “But are you okay?”

“Yes.”

My dick couldn’t have been harder if it had been carved from diamond. There was great need in his expression. I released his chin and let him go back to deep-throating me.

“Show me your ass,” I said a few minutes later. He let my rigid tool drop from between his lips. If his face had been red before, it was now bright scarlet from exertion. The tears he’d cried had made him look like a beautiful mess. I slapped his butt once he’d knelt on the mattress and turned around. The impact made him shout, then groan. I could see the vaguest of imprints from the impact on his white skin, darkening where I’d struck. When I parted his cheeks and let the tip of my tongue flick out, his gasped; his back arched, and his dick stiffened and pointed toward the wall. I ate his hole like a starving dog, gnawing at the cheeks and leaving behind reddened flesh and bite marks. I didn’t care.

When at last I had him ready, I lubed my meat and drove in the first two inches. I wanted to shove it all inside, but I paused, and instead threw back the question he’d asked me upon greeting. “Are you still my boy?”

He whispered in the half-dark, “I’m always your boy.”

“How bad do you want this dick?”

“I love your big dick,” he whimpered into the pillow. “I’ll do anything for your dick. Please. Please, just give me your dick, sir.”

He sounded sincere. I drove it home, causing him to yell, to grasp at the pillows, and to clench his teeth and hiss with pleasure.

We fucked for a long hour or more. I topped him slowly and deliberately, humping on top of him with long and slow strokes while he craned his neck over his shoulder so that our lips might meet. He received my first load with thanks and tears. My second load I pounded in from behind again, but had him kneel on the bed’s edge as he shoved his butt in the air. And the third load, long in coming, arrived as I fucked him face to face, with his knees hooked atop my shoulders. It was in that position that he made his astonishing confession. “I’ve never had anyone in my life fuck me as good as you.”

I stopped for a moment. “Do you mean that?” I asked. It’s the kind of thing guys say in the heat of the moment, to keep the action hot, to make the moment seem more real and romantic than it might really be.

The tears on his face might have been left over from the deep-throating he’d attempted an hour before, but I suspected they weren’t. “You know, the first time I came over here, my legs were shaking so bad that I could barely walk to the door, I was so excited about getting you. You give me exactly what I need,” he whispered in a rush. “Nobody else does that.”

Again, he was sincere. “Thank you,” I told him. I stared into his eyes. I’ve known Scruffy a long time. I can’t say I know him well. He doesn’t open up to me in the same way Spencer has. We don’t have a lot of long, in-depth conversations about his thoughts, his hopes, or his likes and dislikes. What I do know about him is very little, outside of what we do in bed. But when we are in bed, and when we are connected dick to hole, I know he’s giving his all. He’s right there in the moment with me. And that’s rare. “Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s true,” he said, his beautiful eyes open and wide. “I wish it could go on forever.”

My hand brushed the hair from his eyes. “And I wish I could make everything bad go away from your life.” He stared at me, then blinked. His mouth raised to offer me the sweetness of his red lips.

My hips took over. I couldn’t help myself. That moment of perfect intimacy swelled my desire, and I fucked him hard and without restraint. When I came, it was almost painful—as if I slammed into a wall of sensation with such force that it wracked my entire body with sensation.

We weren’t done, though. Not by a long shot. While Scruffy played with himself, I positioned him so that his head hung over the bottom of the mattress. Then, my forearms resting on the bedroom dresser, I squatted over his mouth with my ass, and lowered it up and down on his face. I talked dirty to him and told him to eat his daddy’s hole while he gulped and grunted and groaned. When he came, I was basically wiping my ass crack over his face, moving back and forth to as my dick and balls dragged over the kid’s forehead and nose.

His orgasm was noisy, and explosive, and seemed to last for long minutes. Then he subsided, and on trembling legs I lowered myself to the bed beside him. We lay curled up next to each other for several minutes, not talking, but holding and touching each other as the last of the sunlight faded.

Then he stumbled to his feet and we both dressed in the dark.

“Sorry I’ve gotta go,” he told me, as he pulled on his shoes at the back door. “I’m supposed to go out to dinner with a couple of friends and the ex.”

“Where does he think you are?” I wanted to know. Scruffy always stays with his ex while he’s in town; they seem to have a good relationship as friends, though no longer as lovers.

“Oh, he knows where I am,” Scruffy laughed. “I’ve shown him your photos.”

My eyebrows raised. “Really!”

“Oh hells yeah.” Impulsively, Scruffy pulled my face down to his. “No way I’m not going to brag about getting you. Are you shitting me?”

When he left, I had the biggest grin on my face. He’d flattered and surprised me yet again.

23 comments:

  1. God, I wish this was about me. Though I would've told my friends to go have dinner without me. :)

    You write the most beautiful things! And every experience just fills me with longing for you.

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  2. Aye Mate,
    That was intense. Is he the reason you changed your pic?
    Its been a while since I have felt the beard of a man rub against my face and neck until our eyes meet. you made me miss it. long for it. crave it.
    you the best I've ever read.

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  3. Rob
    You and Scruffy have had this long running magnetic attraction to one another and it is so fine to see you connect again. And how intense was that! Three loads and such an erotic tale of desire and fulfillment!
    The tears he shed and comfort you gave show how intimate and close you two are. The writing captured something special here, as you and Spencer seem to have also.

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  4. Rob, That was a masterpiece of erotic pleasure ! !I was deeply moved by your description of your performance and on the edge when you described how you lowered your ass onto his face !That did it !! I exploaded. I wanted to have your ass just like that soooo bad! That's what I call effective !If only !!

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  5. Fuck. I am reading this while eating a sandwich at Subway. Won't the cleaning people be surprised when they see how much cum was sprayed on the tiles in the mens room. Pathetic I know, but why hold it? Subway. Jesus. Here goes.

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  6. If only you'll have such nice things to say after you nail ME!

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  7. That was a great story! What a lucky boy Scruffy is to get to feel you shoot in him three times!

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  8. I wanted to be Scruffy so badly.

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  9. This was beautiful. I read it in the morning and let it play around in my mind all day.

    How you wrote about your lovemaking with Scruffy made time stand still for me, I felt like it was being done to me, so powerful were your words.

    How Scruffy and Spencer both open up to you, but differently; Scruffy in the bedroom, and Spencer with his most inner thoughts- I realize over and over that these are two real young men, and I feel that they are so fortunate to know you, because you are so very kind and loving to both of them.

    And finally, Scruffy's and yours declarations to each other, and in earlier stories as well, about him always being your boy, is so sweet.

    Once again you excited and enlightened me. All day.

    BZ

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  10. Writer,

    You're so selfish. You've already had an entry about you. :)

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  11. Gingerbeard,

    I changed the photo because for some people, the photo made it difficult to read my blog in NSFW circumstances. My blog is NSFW, and probably shouldn't be read in NSFW environments, mind you.

    I'm glad you enjoyed the piece. Our ginger beards should rub sometime.

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  12. Jayson,

    Thanks. Making guys cry isn't something I always aim for, but I have to admit, Scruffy's tears were pretty hot, considering what he was trying to do for me.

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  13. Anonymous,

    The squat-and-grind posture in which I banged my hole against his face turned out to be pretty hot. I'm going to have to adopt it more often!

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  14. Loki,

    Did you really blast one in Subway? Because that makes me really hard to think about.

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  15. cb,

    Let's meet and see how that works out. I'm sure I'll be writing a rave review.

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  16. Twisted,

    He's felt me shoot in him many more times that that...but the three times that afternoon were awfully good.

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  17. Anonymous 2,

    Come visit. We'll do Scruffy roleplay.

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  18. BZ,

    Thanks, man. They're both very different boys, but I love them both. Good encounters are good because of what's shared together, and because of the understanding between the parties involved. Maybe it's because I don't get to see him very often these days, but Scruffy and I cut past the BS and get straight to the good stuff.

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  19. This isn't just hot, it's romantic...in the least sappy possible sense of that word.

    I don't actually want to be Scruffy. I want a Scruffy of my own! (No diss intended on you, Breeder, I'm just a top daddy type.)

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  20. Yes. Subway had a different footlong on the menu that day. I brought my iPhone in, scrolled down to Asses 3 and shot a five stringer all over the tile wall. Amazing how quickly a hug load like that slips so beautifully down a smooth surface.

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  21. Jnk,

    I'm really not such a megalomaniac that I expect all my readers to bottom for me. (A few more than I've had would be kind of nice, though.)

    Any man would be lucky to have a Scruffy of his own. If only some gay messiah could come and divvy him up like a miracle of the loaves and fishes.

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  22. Wow! Extraordinary! How the fuck can you get me boned and my heart thrumming from your writing? I'll never figure it out, other than to say: Thank you for sharing such a beautiful gift.
    Sheesh! I think I've got to stop reading your posts in public!
    JPinPDX

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