m/m rough story
I've always been a smaller guy, around 5 ft 6, and because of that I've spent a lot of time trying to, "toughen up." I did weight training, MMA, and basically anything that I thought would make me stronger and a better fighter. By the time I turned 21, I was considered the "tiny but mighty one," of the group. Despite my best efforts, I was never able to get my weight above 130 lbs.
A few months after I turned 21, I returned to my parents' home for a few weeks in the summer. We lived in a small town, where I generally abstained from hooking up. I still would peruse the apps, and, on this particular spring day, I received a message that was intriguing. Well, to be sure, the message wasn't intriguing, but the pics on the profile certainly were.
Pic 1, the display pic, was of a torso (duh), with nicely formed pecs, and tight washboard abs. Pic 2 was the back, arms flexing showing bulging, biceps, and toned back muscles. Pic three was the package...yes, mighty fine.
I shared similar pics, and got the message, "hot man. When are you free?"
"3pm tomorrow, u host?" I replied.
"Yeah man. Come over ;)"
Then of course we had to go over that familiar, but necessary hurdle.
"Face pic?" I asked.
A few seconds past
"Oh shit," I said aloud.
Jason Patrick McDonna was the star quarterback of my high school, and graduated the same year as me. I'd attended elementary, middle and high school with him, and probably never said more than five words to him. When I last saw him, at high school graduation, he had an attractive, athletic build. Based on the photos he had just sent, he'd made improvements. I would guess he would be around 21 or 22 now.
"I sent a face pic back with," I guess we know each other."
A pause. Then...
"I guess so! I always thought you were cute ο"
Okay, even my tough guy persona smiled at that.
After a full day of anticipation, I made up an excuse to leave my house, and drove to Jason's home. His parents owned a pretty standard suburban home, complete with bay windows and driveway basketball hoop. I saw him peering through the drapes of his house, and the door was already open by the time I reached the front step.
"Hey," he said. He was 6ft 2, with longish blond hair, a strong, defined jaw line and bright green eyes. Honestly, he looked more like a surfer, minus the tan, than a football player. He wore a tight black t-shirt showing off his well-developed pecs and abs. His jogging shorts (which just screamed bottom to me, by the way) ended halfway above the knees, showed off these thick muscular legs that I just wanted to lick the length of.
I followed him into a sitting room that had some bizarre Dixieland knickknacks on the shelves, and one of those "don't tread on me" snake banners. The air smelled like cigars and meat, and I sat down on a firm armchair, while he sat on a sofa looking uncomfortable. Yet, a bulge in his shorts told me that the interest was still there.
"So...I guess it's been a while, huh?" he said, awkwardly. We were both watching each other, and I noticed how red his lips were for the first time.
The small talk before a hookup could be awkward, but I used it as an opportunity to learn what the other person was into. Trust was super important in these scenarios, even if we did kind of know each other.
"Few years...you're looking good by the way. Like, strong."
He reflexively flexed, and I got to see the well-rounded, but defined bicep up close. He even could get the veins to pop out.
Fucking hot
I thought.
"Same man. You got a nice build." He said, his eyes moving down my body.
I knew I looked like a toned twink, and I disliked this immensely. Still, it's a popular look, and it gets me a decent amount of action. On the whole, I had very little to complain about.
"Thanks," I said, "so...what are you into. I mean, you said you wanted to make out, mess around, but anything specific.
I wanted to pin him down and fuck him like a jackhammer.
"Well, to be honest, I haven't done much. It's tough with practice...and stuff." His eyes lingered slightly on a picture with him and an older man, I assumed was his dad.
So, dad's a dick about gay stuff. Shocking.
"Okay," I said, knowing that this was a difficult place to be, "Whatever you're comfortable with."
"Is my bedroom okay?" he asked, rather shyly.
"As opposed to the front yard?" I said in a teasing way.
He smiled, and led me down the hall, up the stairs, passed a large room to what I assumed was his childhood bedroom. My eyes were on that beautiful bubble butt that his shorts barely contained.
His bedroom was medium-sized, and had memorabilia, mostly trophies and medals, from the years he had lived here. There were some weights crammed into one of the corners, a hamper filled with some dirty work out clothes, and a desk with a computer on it. Unlike the rest of this house, his room smelled like a human lived in it. It wasn't a bad smell, just his smell. Truth was, I kind of enjoyed it.
He sat on his bed, on top of a rather poofy comforter, and looked at me expectantly. That bulge in his pants was getting more bulgy by the second.
I walked up to him, started stoking his hair, and he pulled me closer. His sitting on the bed made us nearly the same height, and it wasn't long before his muscular legs and arms were pulling me in. We started making out on his bed, and after a few seconds he pulled me on top, with his hands somewhat awkwardly grabbing my ass.
