(Continues the story begun in An Appalachian Trail Romance and The Wedding)
Long, sinewy muscles like bands of flexible steel rippling beneath smooth skin tanned to a lustrous bronze lent power to each punch and kick with which Stephen assaulted the weighty kicking bag. Like the sharp crack of a whip, his limbs cut through the air and struck the bag in a flurry of blows, the force of his momentum carried beyond the points of impact. The bag swung wildly on its squeaking chains. Stephen pounded the bag with his fists and palms and sliced with the knife edges of his hands; he gouged it with his elbows and knees; he rammed it with his shoulders and hips; and he kicked it with his shins, the in-steps and balls of his feet, and his heels. He bounced sprightly on the balls of his feet and quickly improvised his moves to adapt to the bag's swings. His washboard abs rose and fell with his deep, rhythmic breathing. Occasionally he'd exhale sharply with a loud "Hhaa!" as he assaulted the bag, as though to say, "Take that!" Sweat streamed down his well-defined body; the short brown hairs on his head, forearms, lower legs, and the trail down his abs were dark and damp. His blue eyes were intensely focused on his target, barely blinking.
"God, you're beautiful!" proclaimed a rumbling baritone voice, somewhat husky with lust.
"So are you!" Stephen shouted as he jumped into the air, spun 180 degrees, and back-kicked the bag.
Don smiled cheek-to-cheek. Kneeling on the edge of the dense blue mat, his bulky, hairy thighs on top of hairy calves, his smooth, muscular glutes resting on his heels, he leaned forward and laid his large palms in front of his knees. His pectorals bulged out and the muscles of his arms flexed, pecs and arms hard and covered in an even coat of soft black fur. He licked his plump lips as his soft brown eyes followed Stephen's every move. "I love how your bulge and buns bounce up and down.... Stephen, how long are you going to go on? We've already had our workout."
"Not much longer, Don. I just got a lot of energy to burn off."
"There are other ways to burn off energy, Stephen. Better ways."
"Horny?" Stephen stopped beating the bag and hopped foot-to-foot. He grinned, knowing his bouncing bulge would drive Don mad with lust.
"Always. Stop teasing me already and fuck me." A bit troubled by his own petulance, Don added meekly, "Please."
"I guess a husband's duties never cease," Stephen said with mock resignation, sighing and shrugging his shoulders. "Come over here, my horny bear!"
Hands pressing into the firm mat like bear claws, Don crawled, eyes glued to Stephen's bouncing bulge. He was salivating, a tiny stream of drool falling from the edge of his mouth and into his well-groomed beard. Don pressed his snout against Stephen's crotch, breathing deeply of the heady scent, feeling the partially hard shaft coiled within the translucent pouch. He let out a long moan. A sweaty palm pushed his head back, keeping him at bay. His moan turned into a whine.
"Please, Stephen. Let me suck it. Please."
"You wanna suck my cock? Come on, open your mouth. You can do better than that. Open it wide! Stick your tongue out! That's it. Show me how badly you want my cock."
Don stretched his mouth open, forcing his large tongue out as far as he could. He panted heavily, drooling. He struggled against Stephen's outstretched arm that kept his head at a distance. Stephen's fingers curled into a fist, grabbing a fistful of Don's short black hair, almost dry now after resting for half an hour. "Whoa, bear! Down, boy! You'll get my cock when I'm ready," Stephen admonished.
Don whined through his open mouth, doing a fine impression of an unhappy Wookiee. His tongue lapped at the air, stretching vainly to bridge the distance. He could not speak. With each passing second, he became more an animal and less a man.
"Down, boy! If you're not a good bear, you won't get my cock. It's your choice."
Don stopped struggling and settled down to his haunches. He held his mouth open with his tongue out. He panted, but did not whine. He raised his eyes pleadingly up at Stephen.
"That's it. That's my good bear," Stephen said, releasing his grip. He pushed down his sweat-soaked jockstraps to his ankles, his trapped cock bounding outward and his round nuts dropping and swinging like twin wrecking balls. The foreskin rolled away as his cock grew to its full eight inches, slowly revealing a large pink mushroom head. It was a thick cock with a prominent ridge of the urethra on the underside. Don's panting became heavy and desperate. "Suck it good!" Stephen commanded.
Don's lips made a perfect O around Stephen's cock. The seal was tight, the suction strong. Don had no regard for decorum, no interest in sucking quietly, demurely. The sounds of his oral worship—of air being sucked in when the suction was stronger than the seal of his lips, of saliva splattering on the mat, of his lips smacking kisses around the shaft, of his plugged throat gagging, of his loud bestial panting and moans—filled the basement and echoed weakly off the walls.
"Oh, baby! That feels so good," Stephen commended, letting his head fall back.
"Mmmhh!" Don moaned gratefully.
"Keep it up, baby, if you want my load. It's coming soon."
Don's head bobbed wantonly on Stephen' cock, picking up speed.
"Fuck! Shit!" Stephen swore as he came. Don swallowed, his bearded cheeks caved in and undulating. Stephen held onto Don's head to support his twitching body, making no move to free his overly sensitive cock from Don's suckling mouth. He would not cut short his husband's pleasure.
Don knew when to stop before his sucking caused Stephen any real discomfort. He pulled his head back slowly, kissing the retreating mushroom head as it departed his mouth. Gazing up and smiling, Don said, "Thank you, Stephen. It was delicious."
"My pleasure! Now, get your ass in the shower."
They rushed up the two flight of stairs into the master bathroom. They rinsed the sweat off their bodies under a shower of hot, steamy water. Stephen guided Don to the far end of the tub, away from the water, and lathered the big man with soap until Don's body was covered with white foam.
"Remember the first time we took a shower together in this bathroom?" Stephen asked as he ran his hands across Don's lathered skin. "I told you I wanted to fuck your ass. Remember?"
"I do, Stephen. I said you could only fuck me in your dreams. I was such an idiot."
"Don't be hard on yourself, Don. You were straight, and had no idea how much you'd enjoy it."
"Straight? Right! I was stupid and scared and in denial."
Stephen turned Don around and bent him over. "Such a gorgeous ass you have, Don. By far my favorite." He gently rubbed the huge glutes and then slapped them both painfully, taking satisfaction in seeing the white buns jiggle like firm jello. Don cried out in pain. "Now, I seem to recall that I told you not to be hard on yourself, not even a minute ago." He gave Don's ass a couple more thwacks. "No one speaks of my husband like that. Not even you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry," Don whimpered fearfully. He didn't fear the blows on his ass; he enjoyed being spanked. He feared Stephen's quiet yet steely voice. There was real anger in his tone. It robbed the pleasure out of the spanking, leaving only sharp pain.
