Every morning at 5:30 that summer, I was in the local pool. The early-bird swim, they called it, so early that the lifeguard no longer bothered to answer her alarm. Good thing I knew the pool manager, who slipped me a key to open the gate and let myself in.
I’d been alone five mornings a week, stroking through 45 minutes of non-world-class freestyle, getting the heart-rate up and doing what I could to tighten the muscles.
Alone, that is, until two weeks ago. I knew him only as Gord, a guy with the same average fitness goals. He was about 25, a couple years my junior, and we were the same 6 feet, within a pound or two of 185.
I’d be lying if I suggested I hadn’t taken a good look at his form in the water, and out of it. He was nicely muscled, but not overly so. Here was a guy much like me, battling the excesses of life that challenge the wardrobe, and he was succeeding rather nicely. He had the broad back of a man who swam and lifted a few weights, the narrow waist of someone waging war with the calories and winning most of the battles.
But our paths separated with our choice of suits. I was in baggy navy
trunks; Gord wore a blood-red Speedo that left precious little to the vivid
imagination of the curious, male or female. Not that I paid much attention,
but he was circumsized. OK, so I paid a LOT of attention.
We’d exchanged nothing but small talk, joking that today was the day a dozen
or two people were going to swarm through the gate and hit the deep end.
We were still waiting for the mob on this magnificent, steamy summer
morning, the sun burnishing a dull orange on the eastern horizon at 5:40
a.m., as we slipped into the pool, adjusting our goggles.
“One of these days…” Gord said, his words trailing off.
“One of these days what?” I replied.
“Nah… it’s nothing.”
“C’mon. One of these days what? You’re going to try swimming butterfly?”
Gord was reaching to the drawstring of his generously filled Speedo, pulling
the suit taut. He paused, then studied me for a long moment.
“More outrageous than that,” he said. “One of these days … I want to swim
naked.”
If he was looking for shock, he’d best have looked elsewhere.
“I’ve swum like that half the summer and was enjoying the hell out of it,
until you showed up,” I said. “There’s no feeling more free.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Really.” And then I slipped underwater and pushed off the wall,
my freestyle taking me out across the pool.
For 30 minutes we swam almost stroke for stroke. That seemed to be our
routine: a half-hour, building to an intense pace, then a short break and a
15-minute cooldown. I didn’t know about Gord, but my mind was racing a whole
lot faster than I was swimming.
We pulled into the wall almost together, breathing heavily as we shook the
water out of our hair and peeled off our goggles. We were in the shallow
end, and as we stood, the water came not quite to our waists.
“You lie like a cheap rug,” were the first words out of his mouth. Obviously
his thoughts were racing, too. “You expect me to believe you’ve swum naked
at a public pool?”
“You’ve been wondering that for 30 minutes?” I laughed. “What’s not to
believe? There’s been not a soul around at this hour, ever.”
There was a look in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. A little daring, a little
lusty.
“It’s no big deal,” I told him. “Look.”
I motioned around the enclosure of the pool, which was almost secluded in
the local park, surrounded by thick bushes and tall trees. Even the birds
had a ways to go to find the place, and the first swimming lessons of the
day didn’t begin for nearly two hours.
“You’re right,” Gord said.
“So? Go for it.”
He looked at me and shook his head.
“Sure as hell not alone,” he said.
I was feeling a wonderful discomfort in my trunks, which I had neither
expected nor necessarily invited.
“Yeah, why not?” I heard myself say.
Gord paused to make sure I was serious. I was, deadly so, and I felt a flush
that had me burning.
He reached slowly to the drawstring of his Speedo, looking left, then right.
With a firm, smooth motion, he popped the bowed string free, then looked to
me. He surely wasn’t about to solo.
I followed his lead, untying my trunks.
“Here goes nothing,” he said. And with that, Gord wriggled the Speedo down
his hips; his cockhead peeked into view. Then he pushed the suit into the
water, stepping out of it and tossing it onto the deck.
In fact, here went plenty. The thought of swimming naked was having quite
the effect on him. His cock clearly loved the idea, engorging with blood,
bobbing to a distended fullness, cresting above the water line.
“Jesus… this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he muttered, half turning his
back on me.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I replied, pushing my trunks to my knees, then
lower.
“No, I guess not,” he said, turning back, looking at my condition, laughing.
It was lost on neither of us that I too was swollen, my arousal plainly
obvious.
The situation stirred us both. Naked, growing quickly erect… two suddenly
very curious guys in a very interesting spot.
“Nice,” he said, nodding as he looked below my waist.
“I could say the same,” I said, ridiculously parched as I stood in a pool.
We pushed off the wall. The feeling of a naked body slipping through the
water was indescribably good, the sensation magnified with another naked
body swimming beside me.
“Wow… amazing,” Gord said as we pulled in at the end of three lengths.
I nodded in agreement as I leaned back into the wall.
Gord’s hand slipped to his groin.
“You were right, the freedom is great. But cool water doesn’t do a lot for
these,” he said, laughing again. He dipped his hand deeper into the water,
pulling at his balls to loosen the tight skin.
“I’ve noticed,” I said, again following his lead.
I think neither of us had any interest in swimming now. But still, I felt a
sudden need to grab my suit, which was nowhere to be found on this side of
the pool. Three lengths… it was at the far end.
I pulled myself out of the water and sat on the edge of the pool deck, ready
to get to my feet. Then the thought occurred: why was I going to walk naked
to retrieve my suit when I could swim to it?
But I seemed in no hurry to go anywhere. Gord had moved between my thighs,
studying me. I was now as erect as I’d been in my life, and instead of
bolting for the change-room to hide the fact, I just sat there.
And then I felt his hand, cool on my molten shaft.
He said nothing as he stroked me tenderly with his left hand, up to the
ridge of my cut cockhead, down till the heel of his hand pushed into my
balls, taut from both cool water and sizzling arousal. My head was spinning.
“Glad to see you finally dispensed with those baggy trunks,” he said, almost
under his breath. “Look what they’ve been hiding.”
Now Gord was also handling his own cock, at the level of the water, with
equal skill. He stroked us both in perfect unison.
“So this is synchronized swimming?” I joked lamely.
He laughed as his pace quickened, inexorably, the water sloshing around his
right hand that flashed up and down his cock, nearly a purple in colour now.
I looked from my cock to his, the sensation building at an alarming rate.
His mushroom head was bloated and full, his balls bouncing with each stroke.
“I want to see you come,” Gord said. “I want to see it.”
“Keep that up and you won’t be waiting long,” I managed, fighting for
breath, staring at his cock, dangerously erect.
His hand barely fit around his swollen shaft, and he was getting very, very
close.
“Come for me first,” I implored him, pushing him back by the shoulders.
“Come for me now.”
Gord took a half step back and rose onto his toes. He seemed ready to burst,
and as he focused on his own pleasure while watching me, he was there. The
first shot exploded like it had been fired from a cannon, and it hit me just
below the navel.
I gasped and looked down to the thick, white river dripping into my pubic
hair as a second, then third spurt splashed onto me. Gord’s knees buckled
and he slumped forward, his cock still drooling. Apparently he had a single
goal: he needed my cock in his mouth.
He denied himself nothing, devouring me like I was his last meal. His own
yield clung to his bottom lip in a sticky strand as he thrust his head down
and pulled back, slurping greedily up and down.
But he wanted to see this, too, and he sensed my climax an instant before it
was upon me, lifting away and fisting me furiously. The first generous spurt
coursed onto his cheek, and he changed the aim to catch two, three more on
his tongue, gobbling it down.
I needed him at that moment more than anyone on earth, and I slid off the
deck down into the pool and pressed my lips to his, pushing my tongue into
his mouth, savoring a cocktail of chlorine and come.
We embraced, and we felt our cocks press together in the shallow water,
gradually softening, the last traces of orgasm oozing into the pool as my
fingernails dug sharply into his ass.
“Where have you been the whole bloody summer?” I moaned to him, our hands
kneading each other’s spent balls.
“There,” he said, licking my earlobe, then nodding outside the chain-link
fence toward a thicket of bushes. “Watching you swim naked.”
Shallow End Chapter 2
It took seemingly forever for my breath to find the bottom of my lungs as I
stood shivery-legged in the shallow end of the public pool, holding Gord
close. The sun was streaking low through the trees, the empty lifeguard
chair now spilling a long shadow across the deck, and even in my
post-orgasmic haze I knew we had to vacate the water.
Together we slipped apart and tugged our suits — his blood-red Speedo, my
baggy navy trunks — back up our thighs, over our butts and our spent cocks.
“Hungry?” I asked him, starting a slow shuffle to the concrete stairs. “I
make a mean omelette, and I live just around the corner. If you’re not in a
hurry…”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said, and I felt his hand squeezing my left
buttock with wonderful intent. “We’ve got to do something about rinsing off
this chlorine, right?”
My mind was burning with what had just transpired: I had been swimming
alone, often naked, for a good part of the summer, no one else willing to
rise before dawn to work out. Then Gord had arrived, and for another couple
of weeks we had had the pool to ourselves for our early-morning swims,
chatting casually between lengths.
Until today.
I accepted his dare to skinny-dip, and the next thing I knew, I was feeling
the liquid heat of his come on my abdomen… then I was watching him swallow
my erection whole, and feeling him wolf down my orgasm after a most expert
cocksucking.
He told me, then, that he’d been scoping my naked workouts from behind the
bushes for some time, from beyond the chain-link fence.
So what now? Even as I toweled off on the deck, unable to fully dry my
arousal-moistened skin, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He looked like a
racehorse as he dipped and bent and twisted, his towel flicking over his
sinewy, muscular body as he dried off. I knew I had to have more.
I had never experienced this particular taste, the flavor he had so
obviously just enjoyed, and now I needed it. Desperately.
“Make yourself at home,” I told him as we stepped inside my townhouse a
half-hour later, the day’s sticky heat already hanging in the air like a
damp towel.
“Thanks. I think I’ll change,” Gord said, rummaging in his knapsack.
My courage was nearly keeping pace with my lust, and I swallowed hard.
“We’re alone here, Gord,” I said. “Don’t overdress on my account.”
He returned my grin.
“You’re right. It’s going to be a scorcher today.”
He pulled his black workout shorts past his hips, and we both watched them
fall to his ankles in a nylon ball. And then he shimmied out of his Speedo,
his flaccid but fattening cock breathing free.
“That’s better,” he said, echoing my very sentiments, chuckling. “A little
looser out of the cool water, too.”
I watched him paw gently at his generous balls, which now hung low and
loose. Indeed, he was beautifully hung, so perfect in proportion.
I knew what I wanted to eat, and the omelette could wait.
I pushed Gord firmly back against a kitchen counter, not as though he needed
the direction, and eased down to my knees, my hands sliding up and down his
legs from his shins to his hips.
“I have never sucked a cock in my life,” I nearly whispered up to him, his
hands in my damp hair, his breath catching. “Tell me what you need.”
“Oh my God…” His first instruction, a moan, offered little help.
So I studied him from an inch away, marvelling at his size and shape, and at
the heat which radiated from his shaft as it steeled to the thoughts racing
through his mind. A thick blue vein, looking like a meandering river on a
relief map, ran from its base on one side and curled beneath, disappearing
at the sharply cut ridge of skin at the protuberant head.
His engorging cock twitched, involuntarily, as my breath slipped over him,
and it nearly slapped me in the face as it bounced back down, almost
parallel now to the tiled floor. He was growing almost by the instant, and I
was entranced by what I was seeing.
“You’re… eager,” I said up to Gord, whose head was falling back, all of
his energies fueling this fantasy, every drop of blood in his body evidently
rushing to his groin.
“Who taught you to tease?” he groaned back.
“Would you say no to a blowjob?” I answered almost coyly, very much enjoying
the situation and his delicious discomfort.
That he thrust out his hips, his cock grazing my lower lip, seemed a clear,
affirmative reply.
Of course, I was teasing myself more than I was Gord, and I would tolerate
my own impatience no longer.
My parched lips smacked audibly as I parted them, and I pushed out my tongue
out to its full length, using it very gently as a cradle for Gord’s shaft.
He twitched again at the sensation, then settled onto my wet skin.
I pulled back, dragging my tongue lightly along his base, guiding it up
slowly to catch the thick bubble of fluid that was oozing from his cockhead.
Then, with my saliva, I drooled it back onto the hot helmet of flesh that
was turning from a deep crimson to an almost angry purple.
“Hmm… salt or chlorine?” I wondered aloud of the foreign taste.
Gord was on his toes in arousal, the same way I saw him just before he came
in the pool. But this time it wouldn’t be his hand wrapped around his turgid
shaft when he reached his point of no return, it would be my hungry mouth. I
felt faint at his magnificent taste, and craved more.
There would be nothing delicate now. I needed as much of his thick,
beautiful cock in my mouth as I could get, and I opened wide and enveloped
maybe three-quarters of him, nearly gagging myself in my wanton greed.
I reached beneath Gord and took hold of his balls, still loose and low, and
let them bounce in my palm as I began to move toward him and away. It’s a
good thing I wasn’t awaiting his instuctions; nothing from his lips was
intelligible. His fingernails dug into my scalp as my pace quickened, as his
cock pistoned smoothly into my mouth.
I withdrew from time to time, with my fist stroking his length that was
slick with my saliva and the precome that I was milking from him, then
plunged back. I needed this oral loving to be as memorable for me as for
him. I paid great attention to his head, swirling my tongue around it in
tight circles before gobbling him deep once more.
It was then I sensed a peculiar swelling an inch behind his cockhead, as
though his shaft was being inflated. I knew the sign in myself. He groaned
from his depths, shuddered, and then he exploded.
I didn’t know fully what to expect, but it surely wasn’t the force with
which his first spurt hit my tonsils and rushed down my throat. I pulled
back, not expecting more after his generous orgasm in the pool, but he was
hardly spent, pulsing fully twice more before he bucked and popped from my
mouth, dripping the last remnants of his climax onto my chest.
I felt his creaminess on my tongue, a bittersweet pool, and swirled it
around in my mouth, savoring it like the finest wine, then dipped lower to
again suck him again, tenderly, every nerve ending in his body on fire. If
he had even one more drop to give, I wanted it.
I held Gord like this for a long while, finally pushing myself to my feet
and turning him around, hugging him from behind. I kissed him between his
shoulderblades, licking the traces of his come onto his chlorinated skin.
He was speechless, drained of all useful thought and deed, and then he felt
my hardness, straining in my damp trunks, pressing up against his tight,
perfect, naked ass.
“Fuck breakfast,” I whispered to him, moving back far enough to drop my
trunks. “I’ve got a Jacuzzi out back. I suggest we sit out there for awhile.
In fact… what would you say if I suggested you sit on me?”
Shallow End, Chapter 3
It was amazing how Gord could be shivering even on this sizzling morning.
His legs were trembling as he slumped against the kitchen counter, slowly
recovering from his orgasm. I leaned in to him from behind, trailing my
tongue over my lower lip, licking up his salty yield.
So this was cocksucking, I thought. I soon would be insatiable, having
savored Gord’s liquid gold on my tastebuds. Now all of my barriers had
fallen, and I wondered: What took me so damn long?
His legs were spread a little wider than shoulder width, and as I looked
down, I marveled at the sight of his thick cock and ample balls hanging
drained between his thighs. They would not be dormant for long, if I had any
say in the matter.
I could scarcely believe the words I had just uttered to him:
“What would you say if I suggested you sit on me?”
Gord had only nodded. He too no longer was observing any boundaries, and the
idea of being fucked in the Jacuzzi had tremendous appeal.
Yet I couldn’t let us retire to my backyard whirlpool. Not just yet.
I had pushed my swim trunks to the floor, and now I nuzzled into Gord, my
cock full and needy. I wanted no part of his beautiful ass for the moment,
preferring to slip between his thighs and push my swollen cockhead to probe
the balls he had just emptied in my mouth. I wanted to press farther ahead
to feel the heat of his flaccid shaft against my erection.
Was that his moan, or mine?
I pulled back then pushed forward, again and again, Gord squeezing his
strong thighs to grip my cock. Our simulated fucking was incredible, and I
hungered for the real thing.
He turned to face me and took my cock in his hand, slapping it gently in his
palm, squeezing it. I had thought I could grow no harder; I was quite
mistaken.
“So you’d like me to sit on this meat, would you?” he offered brazenly,
quite suddenly regaining control of the situation. “You want to slip this up
my ass, do you?”
I smiled wordlessly, and he said: “Well, where’s this Jacuzzi?”
I nodded toward the back door, which led out into the heavily treed yard
that afforded complete privacy. I often luxuriated naked in the whirlpool,
though always alone, and always at night.
More than once this summer had I pleasured myself in the pounding,
therapeutic jets of hot water. Now, I was about to experience it in broad
daylight, with another naked, equally aroused man. Surely I had discovered
heaven on earth.
We stepped through the door onto the huge deck. Gord looked magnificent from
behind, toned and bronzed, a thick fan of muscle spreading across his back,
tapering down to his narrow waist. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his
milky-white, untanned ass, for obvious reasons.
“Aha.”
Gord lifted the oily bottle off the ledge of the Jacuzzi.
“And what would we be needing lubricant for out here?” he asked, grinning.
He cut off the feeble reply I was preparing.
“Never mind,” he said. “Don’t tell me. Show me.”
The Jacuzzi was my one nod to decadence in the house I’d purchased a few
months earlier. I had imagined I’d one day have a woman in it with me, but
my bi-curiosity had grown overwhelming of late, and now I could think of no
one else I’d rather have here than Gord.
I reached to the controls and fired up the jets, which roared to life.
“After you,” I said to my guest.
Gord swung one leg over the ledge, then the other, turning to face me as he
stepped into the rage of foam. He looked down my body to my cock, which in
the past few minutes had lost its sense of urgency and was now hanging
semi-erect.
“We’ll have to do something about this. C’mere,” he said, moving toward me.
Before I could join Gord in the Jacuzzi, he was eating me alive, his eager
mouth sucking and slurping at my cock, restoring it to distended life.
“That’s better,” he said finally, between licks. “Now get your ass in here.”
I needed no coaxing, and slipped in to the whirlpool.
Gord took my face in his hands and kissed me full on the lips, his tongue
dancing with mine. I tasted cock, MY cock, and I loved every molecule of it.
He reached to the bottle of lubricant and popped the cap, inverting it over
my shaft as I sank back to sit on the elevated step in the Jacuzzi, the
water just high enough to wet my ass. With a firm squeeze, Gord squirted a
few ounces directly onto my cockhead and we both watched it course slowly
down my length, a thick, shiny lube which he spread down to my pubic hair
with a loose fist.
For good measure, he applied more, then stroked lightly again, and again.
“Too much,” he confessed, then turned away from me and dropped his hand
between his legs. I watched him take a handful of his loose balls, kneading
them provocatively, then saw his middle finger disappear up his ass,
twisting gently until it was buried two knuckles deep. He bored it deeper
still, then extracted it more slowly than I thought was possible.
Gord backed toward me, and with both slick hands he spread his asscheeks,
looking over his shoulder.
“Fuck me,” he implored, and I took my throbbing, oily cock in my hand and
pushed it down, guiding it to its tight, puckered destination.
I’d often heard the expression “time stood still” and thought it was nothing
more than a figure of speech. I suppose I should rethink that.
Ninety minutes earlier, I’d been alone with Gord, practically a stranger to
me, swimming our normal early-morning lengths of the local outdoor public
pool. Soon we were doing our laps naked, then fondling each other and,
ultimately, orgasming in the shallow end.
He had come back home with me for a breakfast only I had eaten. I was still
on Cloud Nine, having just sucked his beautiful, meaty cock, the first of my
life, and devoured every drop of the creamy nectar it had spurted down my
parched throat.
But now… Now I was sitting in my Jacuzzi, an almost painful erection
raging between my thighs, and the daylight was rapidly disappearing between
Gord’s body and mine as he backed toward me, his hands spreading his cheeks.
Time stood still? Good God, it was frozen solid.
“Sit on me, huh?” he said a little breathlessly, repeating my words back to
me. “Seems that today is going to be a first for me, too.”
“You mean you’ve…”
“Never,” he quickly replied. “I’ve wanted to, more often than you could
know. But never. Until now.”
If Gord was going to lose his cherry, I was unbelievably turned on that I’d
been the one chosen to pick the fruit. My cock throbbed in my greasy fist,
the massage oil he had poured over me providing the ideal lubricant. I
reached outside the Jacuzzi and dialed it down two notches, reducing the
force of the jets to a soft bubble.
“Just go slow,” he said, his ass now resting on my thighs as he slowly slid
back, pausing. “Let me get used to you.”
I understood his concern. I thought my bloated cock, the ridge of my head
never more sharply pronounced, was going to burst. It was considerably more
formidable than the slim middle finger Gord had burrowed deep inside himself
to arouse both of us not long ago.
“You too,” I answered.
I’d had enjoyed a few women in my life, and I thought there would be nothing
more exquisite on this earth than the sensation of slipping into a soft, wet
pussy, pushing to her very depths, feeling her body grip mine.
But there was nothing equal to what I was feeling now, as Gord lifted
himself off my thighs and moved back closer still, his white cheeks parting
to his strong hands, my cock aimed almost instinctively at his dark, untried
ass.
He groaned as our bodies touched, my hand having slipped down to the base of
my cock, guiding it to almost kiss his behind. I directed my shaft to rub
along his left cheek, then his right, before slipping myself back down into
his crack. I felt, if I could not see, a copious bead of precome leak from
my cockhead, and I smeared that into the lubricant he had spread generously
beneath his balls, which now hung deliciously loose in the hot water.
“Say when,” I said, my breath rapidly failing.
Gord inhaled slowly, deeply, then let the air escape with a low whistle.
“Now.”
Our bodies closed the final distance, Gord sinking lower as I lifted
slightly up off the Jacuzzi seat. His ass resisted the pulpy head of my
cock, but only for an instant. And then we felt what was almost
indescribable, as I pushed through the tight ring and broke the vacuum seal
created by the water.
“Oh my God…” The words spilled from us in unison.
We remained absolutely still, our bodies joined, my hands beneath Gord’s
cheeks, supporting his weight as he spread himself. I was afforded the most
incredible view: the head of my cock was stretching his ass, and if I
removed my hands quickly, he surely would impale himself.
“Just go slow,” I recalled his words, and I held him firm.
The bubbles of the Jacuzzi were frothing mildly around Gord’s legs, foaming
up around his calves.
“Are you OK?” I asked him.
“Oh yeah. More than OK.” He looked back at me. “You are one fucking tight
fit.”
“I was about to tell you the same thing.”
His wide-eyed look spoke louder than any words he’d find, and he turned back
away. I saw him nod, and understood his intent as I felt him very, very
slowly let his body sink a little lower.
I gasped at the sensation, his ass wrapped more tightly around my cock than
any pussy I’d ever felt. Gord froze for a moment, then lifted himself up, in
his zeal moving a fraction too far. My cock popped free and slapped loudly
back against my stomach. I was so hard I thought I was going to shatter into
a million pieces.
I wasted no time in easing myself back inside Gord’s ass, which now was more
accommodating. Again he sank back down until I was half-buried, then lifted
up until just my cockhead was piercing his body. He paused again, took one
long, deep breath, then pressed himself down.
And my shaft was gone, filling his ass completely. I thought I felt his cock
now laying on my balls, and I reached around to take him in my hand. He was
long and flaccid and succulent, and had I been double-jointed, I’d have
taken him in my mouth then and there.
I dug the nails of my other hand into Gord’s hip, nearly delirious with the
sensation.
“A virgin no more,” he said brightly, grinding his ass on my hips. “So…
how about a ride?”
I laughed aloud at his words and saw the daylight reappear between our
bodies as he lifted himself almost completely off my cock, then sank back
down. Again and again he did this, with more purpose each time, completely
in control of our fucking.
We were speaking in guttoral noise by now, and then I felt Gord’s hand down
between my thighs, kneading my balls, rolling them masterfully in his palm,
squeezing them with a great sense of my needs.
Our bodies were made-to-measure, and even with the lubricant and the water,
the friction soon was almost unbearable. It was when I felt Gord’s hand
probe deeper, finding my ass as I had slid half off the front edge of the
stair, that my end was near. His skilled middle finger introduced itself to
my prostate, just as he bore his body down onto me.
The fireworks were unlike any I had experienced, my second load of the
morning pulsing up from my balls and through my shaft, throbbing again and
again, deep into Gord’s ass. If he wanted to go easy, he had a peculiar way
of showing me, lifiting up and slamming down, thrusting and grabbing and
squeezing.
I think I blacked out for a moment, and came to with Gord slumped back
against my chest, which was working overtime to find enough oxygen in the
great outdoors. My balls were in his hand, and my cock was softening but
still buried in his ass.
The long, red welts rising on his back must have been my way of saying
thanks; I imagine I raked him with my nails as I came. If he was
complaining, I wasn’t hearing it.
Just as I wasn’t hearing the footsteps coming through the kitchen, or the
opening of the patio door of the damned house I had forgotten to lock.
Shallow End Chapter 5
In the lust that had totally consumed me, beginning with the morning swim
with Gord that had become much more, through our mind-bending, heart-racing
fuck in my Jacuzzi, I had forgotten not just about the front-door lock, but
about Rick.
God almighty… Rick. My neighbor had promised to drop by to wire the
large-screen TV I had bought a week ago but was too technologically
challenged to install. He too was single, a computer consultant and an
independent filmmaker who was making money by the bushel. His house had an
entertainment system in almost every room; he had every new multi-remote toy
on the market, and he thought it was hilarious that I was unable to rig up
something as simple as a TV.
Rick, a casual friend, was broad of shoulders, narrow of waist and he
delightfully filled his faded jeans. And now I felt only the blood rushing
from my groin back to my brain as he appeared on the deck beside the
Jacuzzi, his eyes fixed squarely on me.
“Uh, Rick’s TV Repair at your service…”
Gord was still sitting in my lap, my spent cock beginning to ease its way
out of his ass. I was frozen, his balls still cupped in my hand that reached
over his hip into the foamy water, his shaft modestly plump, stirred either
by our physicality of the past few minutes or the appearance of this
stranger.
“Rick,” I began. “I hope…”
“And here I figured you bought this TV for the pay-per-view smut,” he
interrupted, grinning. “But hey, why watch porn when you can live it?”
Gord laughed, in spite of himself. By now it had occurred to him that this
was not a TV repairman, but a friend of mine who was going to get maximum
mileage by having caught me in, well, a compromising position.
“And I’m sorry I seem to have missed… the climax,” Rick said brightly.
Now the three of us were laughing. I clearly had nothing to say to explain
this, nor was I going to even try.
“Rick, say hello to Gord,” I said. “We met at the pool this morning and we
kinda decided to continue our workout back here.”
“Hell of a way to burn off a few calories,” Rick said, reaching over the
Jacuzzi wall to shake Gord’s extended hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Gord said, slowly pulling himself to his feet. I watched Rick’s
eyes trail down Gord’s hard body as my new friend reached for a towel.
“What can I say?” I said to Rick, my legs feeling like rubber as I stood. I
almost felt detached from the scene, standing naked with a man I’d met only
hours ago and gotten very familiar with, chatting casually with a jeans and
T-shirt-clad neighbor whose mind I was now dying to read.
“You can tell me you got a busy signal when you called over for me to join
you,” Rick said. He missed seeing my jaw hit the floor when he turned and
walked through the door, headed toward the TV.
“What did that mean?” I said to no one in particular.
“Cool guy,” Gord said, smiling. “And pretty hot, too.”
I felt his hand beneath my balls, which hung loose and entirely satisfied
between my thighs.
“I never would have known how good that could be,” Gord said of our fuck,
bending to plant a kiss on my damp cockhead. “Tell me this isn’t a one-night
stand.”
“Not on your life.”
Rick’s “busy signal” was still ringing in my ears when Gord and I moved into
the living room, towels wrapped around our waists. Rick was already behind
the set, whistling happily as he fiddled with a maze of cables, plugging
them from amplifier to DVD player to the set.
“Should have gotten a plasma screen,” he called out.
“Sure. Like I’ve got your millions,” I replied.
Gord slumped into the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table, taking
me at my word that he make himself at home. The towel was one size too
small, splitting seductively open far up one of his thighs.
I shuffled to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, my head swimming with
thoughts of the day. When I returned with three mugs on a tray, Rick was
back in front of the set, pushing buttons on the remote. The TV flickered to
spectacular life.
“Good thing you don’t pay me by the hour,” he said proudly. “What do you
think?”
“It’s fabulous,” I replied. Gord nodded his approval.
“Those pay-per-view movies oughta look fantastic now!” Gord said, flashing
me by whipping open then closing his towel.
“Precisely,” Rick said. “Got to use the john, I’ll be right back. Then I’ll
calibrate the color. Do me a favor, will you, Gord? The calibration test is
on this DVD. Drop it in and start `er up.”
“Sure thing.”
Gord took the disk and got to his feet, moving to the player as Rick left
for the bathroom. As he squatted before the machine, his towel popped from
around his waist and fell to his ankles. I nearly gasped at the view, his
cheeks slightly spread, his long, gorgeous balls hanging slack, still warm
from the Jacuzzi.
“Damn! The things you see when you’re holding a tray,” I said, and he looked
over his shoulder and grinned.
“Here goes,” he said, the DVD drawer sliding shut.
Gord stepped back, making no move to pick up his towel, and we both wondered
about the scene. Color calibration? This was a light blue, in soft focus,
and the picture was shimmering.
But as the image pulled back, sharpening, two figures came into view. And
then I nearly fainted.
I was sitting on a pool deck, and Gord was between my thighs, stroking my
erection. The shot was from three-quarters view, leaving nothing to the
imagination.
“Glad to see you finally dispensed with those baggy trunks,” Gord was
saying. “Look what they’ve been hiding.”
He was stroking his own hardness in unison with his hand on my shaft, the
pool water rippling with the motion.
“So this is synchronized swimming?” I heard myself say.
I was breathless as I looked to Gord, who was standing still beside me,
watching intently, saying nothing.
There were more words spoken on screen, and I heard none of them. The
unanswered questions flooded my mind: Who? How? When?
I looked back at the screen in time to see Gord take a half-step back, rise
to his toes, and then come, almost violently. The scene was in near closeup.
It seemed surreal, this thick, white stream pulsing from his cock onto my
stomach. He spurted again and again, then slumped forward, his open mouth
moving directly to my shaft. The only sounds now were our grunting in the
pool, the quiet sloshing of the water, and the creaking of my bathroom door.
“Not bad for an independent filmmaker hiding in the bushes, huh?”
It was Rick, and he was stark naked, a bronze Adonis whose obscenely thick
erection was leading him back into the living room.
“Say hello to my friend Gord,” he said to me. “He’s been an actor in a few
of my adult movies. In fact, I think he’s on pay-per-view today. Why don’t
we see?”
I looked to Gord, then back to Rick, and was remembering those shrubs at the
pool just as my towel fell to the floor.
Shallow End, Ch. 6
As I looked from Rick to Gord, I figured that if you’re going to be set up
in life, this wasn’t a bad way to be had.
I’d met Gord only that morning, and in short order I had felt his come
coursing onto my body, my cock bursting in his mouth, and then, standing in
my kitchen, I had greedily inhaled his.
I hadn’t a clue that he and Rick were friends, nor that Rick was in the
bushes beyond the pool fence that morning with his video camera — nor that
he had later found his way onto my Jacuzzi deck as Gord was grinding his
virgin ass onto me.
So now I was looking from head to toe at Rick, who was standing in my living
room with a delicious hard-on, the innocent guy (or so I had thought) with
whom I’d shared a few beers over a few ball games the past couple of months.
I was mesmerized by his body: sinewy and athletic, just a thin brush of
pubic hair accentuating a meaty shaft that bobbed almost with a mind of its
own, begging for attention.
That situation would be remedied soon enough.
“I can’t believe this,” I ventured. “You and Gord…”
“…set you up, big time,” Rick completed my sentence, absently stroking
himself. “But don’t worry. That DVD is not in production. I’ve burned just
three: a souvenir for each of us.”
I felt Gord’s hand patting my ass, and I thought my knees were going to
buckle.
“I’ve watched you at the pool for a few weeks,” Gord said. “I’ve known Rick
for years, and when I mentioned to him my need to have you, I guess one
thing led to another.”
My breath was returning, slowly, though any obvious sign of arousal was not.
Nor was Gord showing a swollen life, understandable since the two tremendous
orgasms we’d had this morning had depleted our bodies, if not our lust.
“I think the least we ought to do,” Gord suggested to me, “is thank Rick for
his effort.”
I nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. C’mere, neighbor.”
Rick was wearing nothing but a broad smile as he moved closer. Gord
intercepted him and took his friend’s face in his hands, their lips locking.
This sight, and the view of an engorged cock pointing at me past Gord’s hip,
was the most incredible thing.
I was an incorriglble voyeur now. Rick’s hand was absently stroking his
distension, his thumb smearing a sticky bead of precome over his spongy
head. He was a wondrous sight, perfectly proportioned, broadly thickening an
inch behind the nearly purple, bulbous helmet which crowned his shaft. I
imagined how completely he’d fill my ass.
Surely he shaved his balls because they had the look of fine silk, gently
bouncing against the heel of his hand as he stroked, and Gord moved to his
chest to lick a tight circle around a puckered nipple.
“Watching you guys in the Jacuzzi about killed me,” Rick murmured. “I wanted
to drop my jeans and jerk off on the spot.”
“No one was stopping you,” I said. “But aren’t you glad you waited?”
With those words I knelt before him. Gord was my mirror image,
simultaneously moving to the floor beside me. Rick was facing the TV, and
Gord handed him the remote.
“Start the disk again,” Gord instructed him. “And describe to us exactly
what you’re seeing.”
Gord took Rick’s cock, which was throbbing involuntarily, and fed it to me.
I treated it with complete reverence, rolling my tongue around the head in
four lazy circles, then dragging very slowly to where it continued to leak
its excitement. I leaned in to Gord and offered him a little of what I’d
licked up, and Rick’s moan suggested to us that he was watching with
inflamed interest.
“What I’m seeing exactly is two gorgeous guys sharing my precome,” he almost
grunted.
“On the TV!” I said, laughing, and swatted his firm, bare ass with a loud
smack.
He tried to provide a description of what was on the large screen, but his
commentary was spilling from him in shallow, unintelligible gasps. No
matter, for the two men kneeling in front of him had lived the scene.
I offered his thickly veined length to Gord, repaying a favor, holding a
loose fist around the circumference. But I moved it away just as Gord’s
tongue drew near, rudely slapping his cheek with it, then thrust it back at
him. Twice more I did this, until Gord’s impatience grew clear. He wanted
Rick’s cock in his mouth, and he wanted it now.
“Spread your legs a little,” I said, and Rick complied without delay. As
Gord took at least half of this magnificent cock into his hungry mouth, I
sucked my middle finger then buried it three knuckles deep up Rick’s ass. He
wobbled as I began to fuck him with an agonizingly slow pace.
I felt Gord’s hand against mine as he caressed Rick’s balls, kneading the
two orbs that floated in the velvet sac. We took turns sucking his cock,
first slowly, then with less delicate intent. Soon we were a frenzy of hands
and tongues, and together we gnawed on his shaft from either side, our lips
brushing as we devoured him.
Rick’s lungs had abandoned him now, and we knew he was close. I quickened my
pace, my finger pistoning into and out of his ass.
My free hand reached across to find Gord’s heavy, flaccid cock, and I
slapped it up and down in my palm. He did likewise, just until Rick’s
throaty groans suggested his orgasm was imminent. Rick’s hand fell to his
cock and he began working its length furiously, flying from its base to its
angry cockhead, grazing the finely cut ridge, and Gord and I drew back in
anticipation.
We first saw the trickle, a small drip which I think I felt on my thigh. And
then we saw the torrent. The first roped almost in slow motion at Gord,
splashing him just in front of his ear, at his neat sideburn. The second was
a direct hit on me, full and rich and hot on the cheekbone.
We both turned to squarely face Rick, who must have been storing this
glorious load for some time. His aim was true as he directed his copious
flow from Gord to me and back again, our mouths open. We tasted his come on
our tongues, and felt it on our foreheads, our chins and in our hair. We
encouraged him graphically, and we couldn’t get enough.
The three of us were an unholy, spectacular mess. Rick would have collapsed
if he hadn’t braced himself on our shoulders, and Gord and I finally eased
him down to the floor, his entire body trembling.
For a good long wordless time there we stayed, our bodies entwined, arms and
legs draped this way and that. We enjoyed the feel of each other’s cocks,
playing gently, squeezing and stroking.
“Now that would have made a movie,” Gord said, finally, as we gingerly drew
ourselves up and moved toward the Jacuzzi.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Rick replied weakly. “It might come true.”
“Is that a promise?” I asked. “Or a threat?”
We were like prunes by the time we pulled ourselves out of the Jacuzzi and
came back inside, our clothes still nothing but a rumor. By then the first
draft of the script was nearly complete in our minds, and as Rick picked up
the phone, offering a few roles, he surely knew that, this time, the
filmmaker would be on the other side of the camera.
The auditions would begin at my place late that afternoon, fueled by fertile
imaginations and red wine, and I would quickly learn that Rick and Gord had
the most intriguing way of judging prospective talent.
Rick had been producing his erotic films for some time, given the sizable
DVD library he had brought in a knapsack. No wonder the guy had more money
than a developing country.
We had drained nearly three bottles of wine in the few hours since he had
come like a geyser, and the alcohol, summer heat and thoughts of what was
developing had left us relaxed and more than a little buzzed.
Gord and I sat back on the sofa as Rick slipped a disk into the player and
we absorbed one astonishingly arousing scene after another. He screened
segments of a half-dozen of his films, and Gord starred prominently in two.
I hadn’t a clue where Rick had found these actors. Until this day, I didn’t
know that the male body could affect me like this. But now here I was, in my
living room with two naked men whom I had gotten to know in the most
intimate way, and I was living out an incredible fantasy.
Rick lay on his side in front of the TV with one leg up, bent at the knee.
Not by accident, he afforded us the most remarkable view of his shaved
balls. I knew there was more of his thick cream brewing at this instant, and
I felt a stirring just at the thought.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gord spying me, my cock almost dormant in
my lap. He was playing with himself, absently.
Our gaze moved from the TV to Rick’s loose balls and back to the
large-screen set, to the near lifesize men stripping down before us. Their
physiques were not chiseled, but perfectly toned. They were hung, and they
knew how to use what hung, or stood thick and long and very proud, below
their waists.
We watched as they played, stroked, sucked and thrust, their heat building
until they came with great force onto each other’s bodies. Rick knew the
“money shot” sold films, and he didn’t let one orgasm go unseen.
Then he popped in “Garden Party”, which turned out to be little more than a
fantastic tangle of limbs and hard cocks, probably eight or 10 guys in a
private yard getting their rocks off in every conceivable way.
“Oh my God…” Gord murmured. “It’s Bobby and Don.”
Now he wasn’t playing absently. He was moving with serious intent, taking
long, full strokes, and his cock was quickly growing in his fist. He needed
to be fucked, in the worst way.
He repeated: “it’s Bobby and Don.”
The names meant nothing to me, but they clearly had sent Gord’s blood
rushing to his groin.
“C’mere, Rick,” he moaned, slipping to the floor onto all fours, and his
friend crawled over. Rick was fully, gloriously erect, and he licked his
palm and took a few strokes until he was shiny and slick.
“In the bag,” Rick said to me.
I moved quickly to his knapsack and pulled out his digital movie camera, and
he took it almost frantically from me.
“Here: Focus. Zoom. Start. Stop.”
I nodded, and looked back quickly to the TV. A tremendously fit man with an
impossibly large cock was pushing insistently into a tight, welcoming ass,
pulling back almost completely before plunging deep again. He must have been
almost 10 inches in length, and nearly thick enough to split a man apart.
The angle shifted to better show the man on all fours, and his cock was
practically scraping the ground. He was just as gifted … at least.
Bobby. And Don. Guys that Gord knew from the film business, but hadn’t
gotten to know, at least not as he wanted.
I was still buzzed from the wine, but I was sharp enough to work Rick’s
camera, and focused on Gord as Rick moved behind him. From this angle, I’d
be shooting them and the couple on the screen.
My friends were seasoned pros. With one swift, clean thrust, Rick bore deep
into Gord.
“They’re on their way over, Gord,” Rick said. “They’re the guys I called.
You’ve always told me you wanted Bobby. Well, he’s coming. And so is Don.”
There was a strange harshness in Rick’s voice, but there was nothing cruel
about it. He knew what turned Gord on, and this was it.
Gord was grunting, fighting for breath, when Rick suddenly pulled out with a
loud pop. I zoomed in tight as he spanked Gord’s ass with his inflamed cock,
then panned up to Rick’s face. He was nodding to the door as I hit Stop, and
now here stood Bobby and Don, the two we were watching on TV.
They seemed very pleased by what they were seeing: they were fucking on the
large screen, and three naked men were sprawled about before them. They said
nothing as we watched them undress. I don’t know about my friends, but the
sight of them when they stepped out of their briefs and moved toward us
nearly stopped my heart.
“Don?” I said, offering my hand in greeting. But it wasn’t his hand I shook.
Don smiled down at me as I reached to take his enormous weight in my hand.
Where adult films tend to pleasantly exaggerate the gifts of porn stars,
they simply did not do Don justice.
“How do you do?” he asked, one hand on his naked hip, the other on my
shoulder.
“I’m very… impressed,” I managed through a dry throat, smiling back up.
I was mesmerized as I knelt before him, studying the length and girth that
lay in my hand. If this is what he carried flaccid, I couldn’t imagine what
he’d be like in a state of arousal.
As it turned out, I wouldn’t have to wait long to discover. Don lifted
himself from my hand and encircled his shaft with his long fingers to begin
a slow, practiced movement back and forth. More and more of him emerged from
his fist with each stroke, the head deepening in colour to an angry purple.
Nearby, Bobby was stepping out of his Calvins, kicking them into a corner.
Gord was practically salivating. I’d later learn that Gord had long wanted
to make a movie with Bobby but had never gotten the chance. Now, even if the
cameras weren’t rolling, here he was, face-to-cock with his fantasy.
In fact, this was even better: no cameras, no makeup artists, no stagehands
moving lights and microphones. He was focused solely on one thing, and it
was the magnificent, beautifully cut slab that was jutting out from Bobby’s
groin, swelling to an almost obscene fullness. He could have been used as a
model for a statue, his erection thick and eager beneath a finely cropped
bush of pubic hair, his balls hanging low, swinging freely as he took two
steps toward Gord.
It’s no wonder these were the guys of his dreams. On the screen they were
still fucking, their pectorals and biceps rippling, quads and hamstrings
shredded like stallions that they were.
This garden party was an endurance contest, and the others in the scene were
reaching their end with loud, throaty cries. Soon they were slumped back, a
weak cheering section for Bobby and Don, on whom the cameras were solely
focused.
We were all frozen when it happened: Bobby pulled out of Don for the final
time and peeled off his condom, and with one hard stroke he came with a
vengeance, flooding Don’s back with a creamy white river from his lower
spine to the back of his neck. My jaw dropped open at his yield.
Rick’s camera showed come trickling through the crack of Don’s ass, dripping
to his balls, as Don jerked himself furiously, growling as the sensations
grew too much. Then he too was over the edge, one generous spurt after
another stringing across his navy-blue towel.
Rick had known of Gord’s fantasy; they had spoken of it many times,
apparently, and maybe this was a little surprise he had secretly arranged
for his good friend. Whatever, Rick was now moving back in tight,
positioning himself directly behind Gord, his cock aimed precisely. Gord was
hard enough to cut a diamond, and the daylight was rapidly disappearing
between his face and Bobby’s cock.
My head was swimming, and that’s when I felt a tremendous heat against my
own cheek, dragging slowly to my lower lip. I turned my head slowly, and
felt the breath drop out of my lungs. Don was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
“Good God….” I mumbled, tilting my head back a few inches to take in the
full view. This wasn’t an erect cock, it was a freshly milled length of
steel, exquisitely veined, bobbing in rhythm with his pulse.
There was a small bead of fluid weeping from the tip, and Don swept it up
over the bloated fleshy helmet with his thumb, polishing it to a high gloss.
He looked delicious enough to eat, so I did. I wanted to gobble him whole,
but I was lucky to take half of him, my mouth stretched wide, my need
growing to feel him paint my tonsils.
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Copyright by Northern Light