Sunday, May 18, 2008

A Post for Jason

N.B. This post does not relate something that happened to me: it is porn. Jason, one of my most dedicated and sexiest readers, commented on a recent post, asking for a fictional "vignette." This is not a vignette: it's just porn, and it's not even very good porn. Fortunately, what it lacks in quality, it makes up in length. I apologize in advance for the porn cliches, but they are endemic to the genre. Besides, you should really blame Jason. I am just fulfilling a request because I would do (almost) anything for my readers, especially the dedicated and sexy ones. To reiterate: where I do not state otherwise (i.e., in all my other posts), I am relating my actual experiences. I have no intention of becoming The Great Cock Hunt, and this post is an isolated instance.

[Normally, there would be a title here, but I can't be bothered. Feel free to make suggestions.]

I'm sitting in the back of my pick-up truck, watching the trailing edge of the sunset. I refill Curt's cup and pass it to him. "Here's to ex-wives," I say, and he laughs. He's a little bit drunk, staring at the sunset. My hand's brushing his thigh, and either he doesn't notice or he doesn't care.

A couple of hours earlier, I'd dropped my kid off at school. It's her sophomore year at Middleofnowhere college in Middleofnowhere, Vermont. I found Curt in the parking lot, where he was trying, without much success, not to crumble in the face of the twin insults of dropping his kid off at college for the first time and a dead battery. I'd offered him a jump. We'd gotten to talking. It turned out we had a lot in common, so I'd invited him to see the best sight around. After he'd recharged his engine, and I showered and cleaned up, he stopped by my hotel room just after I'd laced my boots. I was still shirtless, and he was looking at me the way a man in the desert looks at a cold beer. I'd put my shirt on, and we'd driven up the mountain to watch the sunset.

Curt's a a bit of a string bean. Thin, bookish, with long legs: a runner. But the jeans he'd changed into also showed such a nice ass that they almost made up for his ridiculous flannel shirt, which nonetheless managed to show off a strong and defined set of pecs. Now, in the back of my truck, he's telling me about his kid and about how much he's going to miss him when he goes back to his empty row house in the city. I tell him that it gets better. He tells me that it's chilly, and I pull the other sleeping bag over us. He leans against me. I'm guessing that he hasn't had a lot of physical contact recently and that the liquor and the loneliness are good enough excuses for him to be shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh in the back of the pickup of some guy he's never met. I can't help rolling my eyes, though, when he starts to talk about his ex-wife. It's a damned good thing that I find cute clueless closet cases damned near irresistible.

"She said I didn't give her what she needed. Remote, she said. I didn't communicate enough. I wasn't interested enough in her life."

"You didn't have enough sex." He looks at me. "Just a hunch. It all sounds familiar."

"Well, yeah. But that's normal, right? We'd been married a long time, and I'd just sort of lost interest."

He gets quiet and takes another sip of his drink. I've done this dance before. It's predictable, but it's never dull. "You all right, Curt?"

"It's just hard," he says quietly. Some part of his brain knows that something is up, but he doesn't have the experience or the context to put a name to it.

"Yeah. Hard is a good word for it. Here." I push him forward a little bit and sit behind him, grabbing his shoulders and beginning to massage immediately so that there's a plausible non-sexual reason for what I'm doing. You don't want to spring the trap too soon. I apply firm pressure to tight shoulders. "Relax."

It takes a minute, but his shoulders begin to relax, and the rest of his body follows and he's leaning back against me. He smells of naivete and bar soap. "Oh, that's good, Ted. I guess I was really tense."

I move down the shoulder blades, pressing in. "Sometimes, the most therapeutic thing in the world is human touch." He murmurs, but he's not listening to what I say. As I press harder still on his shoulders, I wrap my legs around him so that they're resting on top of his legs. I can sense the tension growing in his lower body even as his upper back continues to melt. A moment later, he begins to shake and then cry. This is not unexpected. I wrap my arms around him tightly, like I'm swaddling a baby, and whisper in his ear, "Release is good. It'll be okay." He continues to shake, and I hold him for a long time until there's no trace left of the sun. His breathing slows and he becomes calmer, and I tell him that a lot of guys have been in the exact same position.

"Really? And did they all get a great massage and a spectacular view of the Pleiades?" I laugh, and begin rubbing the fronts of his shoulders. I pull the sleeping bag tighter around us, and while my left hand is rendering him speechless by kneading the back of his neck, my right hand is unbuttoning his top three buttons. Then I slide it inside his shirt, across his body and work the little dimple under the front of his shoulder.

"Can I ask you something, Curt?" He kind of nods, replying more to the tone of my voice than the actual words. "Did you ever cheat on your wife?"

"Never." He's still relaxed.

"Never even wanted to?"

"Never even wanted to. Why?"

I don't answer. My hands have moved down to his pecs, and I'm rubbing them in such a way that the tips of my fingers are grazing his nipples in a way that could be unintentional but obviously isn't. They're nice nipples, and they're suddenly perky. I can tell that there's some part of him that's uncomfortable, but the new and unexpected pleasure is drowning out his reservations. He reaches for his drink and drains it. He drops the cup. My chin is lightly on the back of his shoulder, my lips right next to his ear. Then my thumbs and forefingers come together to give his nipples a gentle but unmistakable squeeze.



"What are you doing?"

"I'm squeezing your nipples."

"But, um."

"Listen, Curt," my low voice says quietly and clearly in his ear, "either we can do this the easy way, or you can do this the hard way." He's about to protest, but I continue, "The hard way involves me apologizing and driving you back to the motel where you tell yourself that you were drunk and I was drunk AND presumptuous. Then you go back to Indiana and start to look at gay porn on the Internet. Eventually, you end up on your knees in a rest area, and maybe you get arrested or maybe you end up with crabs or maybe something worse and then after some anti-depressants and a lot of therapy, you accept that you're gay and regret the months or years that you could have spent having really great sex instead of wallowing in the Slough of Denial."

"I'm not gay, Ted." I don't respond, and he continues, "I'm not. Don't get the wrong idea: I'm not a homophobe. I have nothing against the gays. I love Ellen! But I'm straight."

"So if I were to reach down another eighteen inches or so, I wouldn't find an erection?" Even though it's dark out and I can barely see him, I can feel him blush all the way to the tips of his toes. I twist his nipples just a little bit more firmly "Of course, there is the easy way."

He's breathing faster, his chest rising and falling. I feel the fight inside him: his mind wants to hold on to what he's always known, but his body wants to surrender. "Well, just for the sake of argument," he pants, "what exactly is the easy way?"

I lick his neck and his whole body quivers. "You ask me to kiss you, and I take you on the guided tour."

I run the tip of my tongue along his jawline, his eyes open, and his head rolls back. "Oh," he gasps, "look at all the," my tongue touches his ear, "stars!"

He can feel my mouth pull into a smile with my teeth lightly touching his ear lobe. I hold him a little bit closer, and another thirty seconds go by. "I think," he finally sighs, "that I'm already hard enough. So can we try the easy way?" My smile widens, which causes me to bite down on his earlobe a bit harder than I'd intended, but he doesn't seem to mind, even though I simultaneously pull on his nipples. I slide out from under him holding his head as he reclines. When he's lying flat, I lower myself slowly onto him. He takes a sharp breath when my hard cock touches him through two layers of denim and (I'm pretty sure) one of underwear. I take his head in my hands and when our chests connect, I rub the side of my face against his, my lips brushing against his ear. His arms close around my back as if he's embracing Home. "Please," he suspires, "please. Please kiss me."

It's a clear but moonless night, and we're buried between two sleeping bags, so I can't possibly see a thing, but I can feel it all with perfect vision. I take the sides of his face in my hands and hold my lips an inch from his so that he can feel my breath warm. His lips part and pucker slightly, and I give him the softest kiss imaginable. Right now it's like our tongues don't even exist, but I can feel him take my breath to his core and then I feel the kiss rolling all the way up his body, and I can't help smiling as I prepare for the surge.

It breaks, and, whoa, there's the tongue. He's trying to shove it down my throat, and his whole body is writhing and his hands are all over my back, and if I didn't have my shirt on, I'd probably get clawed. I let him work out some of the nervous energy, but only for a few seconds, and then I let my body go slack on his. He's surprised, and when his hands come down, I grab his wrists very quickly and pin them firmly over his head. I take my mouth from his, and for just an instant he's like a lion who's had his hyena snatched away.

"Easy. Easy, Curt." He stops struggling. "I know you're excited, and, believe me, I like that, but you don't want to fight the tour guide. Now, relax." I start to kiss him again, and it's great. His tongue is soft now. Tentative. When I push a little more firmly with my own, he responds, but then I back off and take his lower lip between my lips and pull very gently, and a low groan stirs from his chest. We continue to kiss and kiss, but the rest of our bodies are engaged, too: I've stopped holding his wrists down, and now his fingers are intertwined with mine; the ebb and flow of our breath is coordinated so that our chests regularly swell against each other; the bottoms of my boots caress the tops of his running shoes; and, of course, our cocks are both straining against our jeans. While I'm still kissing him, in fact, I start to feel some dampness seeping through my jeans from his: he's definitely a heavy leaker, and that's yet another thing to make me smile.

When I roll off him, on my side next to him, our lips come apart, and he involuntarily rolls on his side as his mouth pursues my own. As much as I appreciate a single-minded set of lips, there's a lot more of him that I want to explore, so I dive for his neck and begin sucking it lightly as I unbutton the rest of his shirt. He's moaning more loudly as my hand pushes his shirt aside and begins to twist his nipple. I'm doing a bit of recon, seeing what his baseline nipple tolerance is, and I'm pleased to find that it's pretty high. I flick the tip of my tongue rapidly back and forth against the side of his neck while I twist the nipple just hard enough to be one toe over the line. He starts to starts to murmur, "Oh fuck, that's good," but when I push the other half of his shirt away and bite down -- lightly -- on his other nipple, his back arches, and his body shakes. I start to laugh, and he tenses and says, "I'm sorry, Ted. Am I that bad?"

"No, baby. You're that good. Sometimes, I just laugh because I'm having such a damned fine time. Then I reach for his belt. "Wow. You really are wet."

"I'm just so fucking worked up. When you were on top of me, kissing me, and our cocks were rubbing, I was sure I was going to cum."

"Really? Oh, that's hot, Curt. Take off your shirt." I undo his belt, the button of his jeans, and his fly very quickly as I lick my way up his body. His boxers -- which, given the flannel shirt, I'm glad I can't see -- are soaked. I reach in and pull his hard, wet cock out through the fly. I squeeze it lightly and run my hand along its length, and I like what I feel: long, slender, and uncut. It's hard to tell about his nuts because they're pulled up so tight to his body. I leave my thumb and forefinger circled around the base of his cock with my other fingers cradling his tight sack, and I start to flick my tongue very quickly across his nipple.

He's struggling out of his shirt, his hands reaching back to try to pull the back of it forward and then off him. "Damn, Ted, that's intense," he says between gasps, "um, if you don't slow down, I'm afraid I'm going to shoot. Ease up, ok?"

"Ok," I murmur around his nipple. I pull off slightly and lick up along the side of his pec. His arms are over his head, trapped by the shirt he's trying to take off, and I use the opportunity to slide my tongue into his armpit and tickle it slightly. When he tenses, I ease off, and when he relaxes enough to keep working on his shirt, I ram my tongue full into the pit and lick. A squeal escapes his gritted teeth, and my tongue heads back down his chest. I squeeze the base of his cock and his nuts much tighter, and I bite down firmly on his nipple. He trembles, then tenses, then thrashes, and I can feel his nuts churning. I push his cock against his stomach and push my tongue against the nip my teeth are holding just as I feel the first jet of cum fly out of his cock. Even though I'd pushed his cock flat, the shot hits my jaw, and I laugh as it's followed by many more, Curt's body jolting with each one. I slide my hand up along his rod to squeeze the very sensitive head, and he convulses. "S-s-stop. T-t-too much!" I laugh and let go of his cock. I let his nipple out of my teeth, too, but I keep kissing it, gently. He finally gets his shirt off and his arms free.

I roll onto my side, next to him, and I slide an arm under his neck and around his shoulder so that we're both on our backs with only our heads outside of the sleeping bags. Curt's chest is still heaving a little, and I figure I'll wait for him to speak first. I could lie here forever: the night sky is everything you could want.

"I'm kind of a mess," he says, finally. The sleeping bag would take care of it -- it's machine washable, and it's seen much worse -- but I figure I might as well kill two birds with one stone, so I grab his shirt and wipe slowly from his chest down to his cock, which is still mostly firm. I wrap the shirt around my fist and give his cock a few full strokes. "There. Better?"

"I think you ruined my shirt."

"Some day you'll thank me." I lie back again. "God," I sigh.


"All those stars."



"Is it okay that I came so soon?"

"If it hadn't been okay, I wouldn't have pulled the trigger."

"Oh. Yeah. But, what about you? You didn't cum."

I tug on his shoulder so he turns sideways. I turn to face him, I grab his hand, and I put it on my still very hard cock. "I hope you're not laboring under the misconception that we're finished here." I kiss him, lightly at first, but he puts his arms around my shoulders, and we get lost in it for a few minutes. It's deep, but it's soft. "God," he sighs, when we finally pull apart, "I feel like I could do that forever."

"Do you? I don't reckon I'd stop you."

His hand is still on my cock, which is still very hard, though. "But I think," he murmurs, "that there's more of you I'd like to explore."

Yet again, he's making me smile. I pull off my shirt. "Go for it," I tell him.

He kisses me again, as he unbuttons my jeans. "Oh, nice," he whispers, when he sees that I'm commando. I push my back up a little to help him pull my jeans down until they're around my thighs. He takes my cock in his hand. "It's so thick. And your balls are so big. He caresses them and then runs his hand along the length of my cock until he reaches the top, where he rubs his thumb and forefinger together in my precum. I tell him to taste it, and he does, smiling again. He begins stroking me slowly, stopping frequently to squeeze my rod, as if to make sure that it's real. He's nuzzling my neck, and when he pushes his tongue in my ear, it's my turn to quiver. He redoubles his efforts, thrusting his tongue into my ear over and over while he increases the speed and intensity of his stroking. There are low, short laughs coming from deep in my body as I shake all over. I'm overwhelmed by the situation, and I'm a bit nonplussed that he's managed to so quickly find the one thing that steals my ability to control my own orgasm.

Luckily, he stops just before I go too far, and I grab his head and hold it tightly against my chest. When I relax, he starts to kiss very slowly down the middle of my chest. "I love your body," he tells me. "It's so strong." I stroke his hair, half playfully, half sensually, and he continues to work his way down, until the side of his face is against my cock. He kisses through my pubes and then my nuts. His tongue is tentative at first as he licks my balls and the base of my dick. He slowly traces the tip of his tongue all the way up towards the cockhead. "I've never done this before," he tells me, "so let me know if I'm doing something wrong."

"So far," I reply, "you've shown excellent natural ability. And, really, cocksucking is not rocket science. There are just two things you have to remember. The first thing is to relax."

"I'll do my best," he smiles. "What's the second thing."

"You have to love the cock. You think you can manage that?"

"Oh, fuck yes," he says just as he runs his tongue around my cockhead. He closes his lips around my cockhead and continues snaking his tongue all over it, and it's feeling great. It makes me want to just lie back, look at the stars, and be transported, but I remember to tell him what a good job he's doing.

He takes his time, and that suits me very well. Maybe fifteen minutes later, he's got half of my cock in his mouth, and I'm about done with contemplating Orion and thinking of nice things to say, so I pull his body around, work his shoes, socks, and jeans off, and dive between his legs. He hasn't stopped sucking, and he gets another half-inch or so of me inside his mouth as I run my hands along his inner thighs and spread his ass wide with my palms. I don't want to get bitten, so I wait until he stops to take a breath before I run my tongue along his asshole. His head shoots up. "Oh. Oh god." My tongue becomes a little more insistent, running around his hole and then pushing against it. His neck swings from side to side a few times, but then he regroups and takes my cock deeper than he has yet.

I take a moment to appreciate what a fine ass he has. Smooth, firm, and muscular. It's the kind of ass that you want to sink your teeth into, so I do, but not very hard. His head shakes a little on my cock, but then he goes back to sucking up and down. He has nearly all of my meat in his mouth and throat at the bottom of his stroke now. He's managed to relax, and the guy obviously loves the cock. I figure we'll find out how much pretty soon. I wrap my legs gently around his head, so when I bite down on his asscheek a little harder, my legs are there to keep his head from flying off my cock when he gasps. He makes a hungry noise and takes me all the way in, and I spread his cheeks wider and push my tongue harder still against his hole. It opens for me, and I push in.

A few minutes later, I've unfolded my legs, and his head is on its side, right next to my cock, which he's slowly licking. He tells me that he's never felt anything like this. I assume that "like this" means my tongue in his ass, but it's not entirely clear, given his level of experience. I tell him that I want to fuck him, and he's scared but excited. I tell him that I'll take care of him, and he says that he trusts me. I reach for the toolbox and grab the tube of lube, squeezing a dollop of it onto my middle finger and then using my thumb to warm it and spread it onto my forefinger, as well. I push my slick middle digit up against his wet hole, and I push in. There's not much resistance, but there is a lot of moaning. I slide in slowly, working my way in until I feel the outline of his prostate, which I touch very gingerly. His lower body contracts with the feeling of invasion and hitherto unknown pleasure. I slowly, lightly work the tip of my finger around his prostate until he decides that he really does like it. That doesn't take too long.

I follow with a second, third, and fourth finger, and each time he moans more deeply. By the time I've got the fourth finger in, I'm pressing pretty hard on his prostate, and his cock's rock hard and leaking pre all over my chest. I twist my hand so that the fingers go sideways, and his whole body twists. I ask him whether he wants more. I ask him whether he's ready for the cock.

"Yes. Please," he replies. I grab a condom with my free hand and toss it to him. He fumbles with the packet some, maybe because I've got four fingers up his ass, but he manages, and once he has the condom out of the packet, he quickly and ably gets it on my very hard cock. I pull him around so that he's on top of me, and we're face to face, and I start to kiss him, but he's eager. "Now, please. I want you to fuck me now." I tell him that it's right there for him to sit on.

He sits up, straddling my chest, and pulling the sleeping bag with him. I feel it come up over my boots to where my jeans are down around my ankles, and it's cold, so I pull them in under the bag. He slides back until he feels my cock against his crack. The angle's wrong, and he figures that out for himself and squats over me. I tell him to take it slow and easy, but I've been drilling him with four fingers, and he's very eager, so he doesn't listen and winces when my cockhead pops into him. "Easy," I say again, grabbing his hips. "Wait, relax, and let your ass adjust." His eyes are clenched shut, but he nods, and when I feel his body relax a little bit, I let him slide down a little bit more. Once we're going slowly, he doesn't have much of a problem. He keeps telling me how thick I am, but when I ask if he wants to wait, he shakes his head impatiently. I decide he can handle the pace himself, and I slide my hands up to his nipples, tweaking them lightly, and he throws back his head and laughs, "Oh fuck yes!" It takes a few minutes to get all of my cock into him, but when his ass is resting against my thighs, he bites his lower lip and just says, "Mmm." His cock is leaking like mad, and he starts to rock back and forth on me, making little moans. I give his cock a couple of quick pumps, then wipe his precum on his nipples before squeezing them more.

Curt's tall and limber, and he manages to bend all the way forward to kiss me. Hungrily. I pull my feet up enough to let me thrust a little, and as I push against the truckbed, deeper into him, I suck a little harder on his tongue and then on his bottom lip. When I ram into him, he squeezes his ass against my cock, and it's just an awesome fuck. He's getting more vocal and less comprehensible with every thrust, and I'm so hard and worked up that I'm not sure how much longer I'll last. When I feel the first telltale signs of an orgasm building from the base of my balls, I reach between us and grab his slick cock in my hand and begin to jerk it. He responds by squeezing his ass tighter, and that makes me thrust harder into him. I'm pulling about halfway out on each thrust now before ramming all the way back up into him. His whole body's jerking again, and he's groaning and grunting, but he manages to turn my head to the side and shove his tongue in my ear again, and I'm just barely conscious enough to notice that as my first shot of cum hits the condom, his first shot is hitting my chest.

I keep thrusting, emptying my nuts into the rubber. Curt's second load isn't as big as his first, but it's still big. As my thrusting starts to wane, I lock my arms around his back and hold his chest tightly to mine, feeling the cum between us. His cock continues to spasm, but his head is limp, with his lips next to my ears, and I can hear atavistic mumblings. My body relaxes, and I hold him more loosely, looking over his shoulder at the Milky Way.

Ten minutes later, we're back in the cab of the pick-up. Neither of us is wearing a shirt, so I've got the heat cranked up, and I've got one arm around Curt, who's leaning against me. We're only a dog, a beer, and a shotgun away from a country music song.

He asks me questions all the way back to the motel, and I do my best to fill him in on what to expect when he comes out and starts dating guys. Back at the room, we get a shower and into bed, and after telling me that I owe him another load, he falls asleep in my arms. We're up a couple more times during the night, and I pay him back with interest. In the morning, he's very sore, so I hold him close and we kiss a lot, but eventually it's time for both of us to get going. We hit the local diner for breakfast. It's ten in the morning, so it's already deserted. I'm starving, and I'm eating a breakfast that would defeat a lumberjack. Curt's holding his coffee, looking scared. I slide my leg against his, ask for his cellphone, and hand him mine. I punch in my number and hit the green button. I tell him to call me anytime.

A couple of hours later, I'm driving through upstate New York, and the phone rings.

"Hi, Curt. What's up?"

"I was just wondering something. What exactly is involved in phone sex?"


Jack in Sydney said...

I would like to suggest a title, but first I'd like to say that you should be getting paid for writing like that. If you're not, then I'm damned glad that you're happy to do it for free.


And I don't know who Jason is, but I'm sure he liked it. If he didn't, then you can be sure I did.

Lewis said...

Thank god that Jason asked...and that you delivered. Very hot and naughty writing, just my thing. And the dude on the pickup truck showing off his junk and the bottoms of his feet.....oh my god. I'm also glad that you said that Jason was just one of your sexiest readers. The rest of us don't want to feel left out.

Jason said...

I'd still like to call it erotic fiction, TED. Not that it's less sexy or dirty than porn. Porn is not didactic. The "hard way" conveyed to Curt was both ha~ha funny and life affirming. Porn doesn't care about that.

The Neighbors Will Hear said...

Jack: I'm glad you liked it. I'm not sure how happy I am to do it for free. I was really amazed at how much longer it takes to make something up than to right about something similar that actually happened. But that may partly be a matter of process. Maybe some outlining would speed it along. But given that writing about actual sex is so much easier and having actual sex is so much more fun, there's not really much of an incentive to make things up.

Lewis: It goes without saying that all of my readers are almost unbearably sexy.

Jason: I don't really make the same distinction. I know a lot of people get hung up on whether something's erotica or porn, but I think anything written with the intent to excite someone sexually is porn. Some porn is just better than other porn. The same is true of fiction generally. There are a lot of books where the primary intent is to give people a way to pass their time on the subway without actually making them think. They're still fiction. Of course, I don't think of "porn" as a pejorative, so that could be why I think that making a distinction is unnecessary.

Will said...

Gives a whole new meaning to the term carjacking.

Faustus, M.D. said...

There was really no need to label this fiction. The idea of meeting a man under these circumstances who can make a coherent comment about the Pleiades is simply too far-fetched to be believable.