Rainy Day

I stood washing my cock at the kitchen sink of the rental cabin. Allen had arrived about two hours earlier and we had been clenched in manly debauchery ever since. In fact, we never got more than ten feet inside the front door.

We have a deal where he gets to watch my face as I cum at least one time during our little trysts. Apparently, my climax plays out in full cinemascope across my face. Allen says he can read every ripple of ecstasy, and the euphoria of ejaculation is like the 4th of July in my eyes. I'm not sure that's an attractive look yet it's a sweet deal for me because I can then fuck him in any and every exotic position that I desire. And, if you knew Allen like I do, you'd desire to fuck him any way you could.

On this day, he did not get to witness my first orgasm. I had met him as he drove up and helped carry his bag inside. I dropped his gear as soon as we passed the threshold and clutched his waist, burying my lips in his nape. I was trying to hook the door with my foot to shut it. I managed to get it half shut when Allen thrust his lush ass against me sending us stumbling backward, slamming the door, and tumbling us to the floor laughing. He wound up in my lap. My hands were on his chest, gathering his tits and tweaking the nipples. My mouth was making a sloppy mess of his neck. He was squirming and moaning, his libido already zooming at full throttle. He spun around and planted a soft soul kiss on my lips.

We rolled around the entryway in a fevered make-out. I finally struggled to my feet but Allen only made it as far as his knees. Allen is absolutely adroit at stripping a man and he had my cock in his tender, sweet hands in an instant. Ravenous eyes adored its length and girth. He tested its firm muscularity with his fingertips. His juicy tongue traced around the cockhead and tickled the soft frenulum underneath. My knees faltered beneath an onrush of bliss when his lips sunk down the shaft. I slumped against the door. Up and down, he sucked and licked, deeper each time, until the plump cockhead was ensconced deep in his throat. He made undulating swallowing motions, sending rapturous spasms through my core. Then he pulled off, sputtering, smiling, proud of the delight he had bestowed as a strand of saliva still bound my cock to his lips. He went back to savoring my manhood. I was not about to stop him.

I was close to cumming when I slowly pulled him to his feet. Distracting him with a kiss, I clumsily unbuttoned his jeans and lowered them past his ass. His bodacious soft cheeks filled my hands and I kneaded them tenderly. I had been fantasizing about his booty for days and its heat and plushness fired my passion. He kicked off his pants as I turned him to the door and engulfed his chest from behind, my throbbing, turgid cock pressing toward his rosebud. I knew he had probably removed a butt plug only minutes from the cabin. I knew he was ready.

Allen arched his back and spread those luscious cheeks. I penetrated him slowly and deeply. When my cockhead grazed across his spot, he whimpered and clenched. With his forearms propped against the front door, I began to fuck him with long languorous strokes. We found our rhythm and rocked together in unison. I let myself get lost in the bliss of his sumptuous ass.

Finally, he stopped me. "Let me," he whispered lustily. I stood as still as I could while he rode back and forth on the full length of my shaft. He started to boogey his hips in synchronicity to the rhythm. My cock swirled and danced within his cloying, delicious confines. My very soul rocked to the beat of his floozy dance. I approached my limit. I couldn't be still. I hunched upward to meet him, again and again. I clenched his hips tight as I plunged into him in an increasing frenzy.

"Give me your cum, Mr. Phil," he panted rhythmically. "Cum for me, Baby," he cooed. "Breed me. Breed me."

I impaled my cock to the hilt as shudders of ecstasy pulsed through me and cum exploded from my loins. Groans and grunts tore from my throat. I quivered inside him as the moment calmed. Somehow, I managed to collapse into a chair beside the door with him still firmly in my lap. My breath slowed as my shrinking cock popped free.

"You're being splooged, aren't you?" he asked as he felt my seed drip from him.

"It's my just reward."

"I see you thought to cover all the furniture with towels."

"I considered a painter's drop cloth over the whole room but..."

"Where's the romance in that?"

"Exactly."

Allen could not suppress his need for men. It was more than just carnal desire. He Jonesed for a man the way a junky Joneses for a fix. It amounted to an emotional disorder. His micro-penis was at the root of it all. The consequence of his having a gnarly little dick was an inescapable sense of inadequacy. It had led to a lifetime of emotional and sexual abuse by loathsome men. It had shattered his self-esteem and extinguished his ability to love himself. He long ago gave up on ever being loved, so he filled the emotional hole by servicing the primal needs of any available man, hoping for at least a momentary sense of being desired. His last boyfriend actually brought guys home in order to watch them fuck a non-consenting Allen. Shit like that has to leave scars. I promised myself that I would never be one of those guys. Still, perhaps the greatest thrill I got from Allen was his slavish adoration. His zealous submissiveness. That nature was hard-wired in him long before I came along, I thought, why shouldn't I enjoy it?

Allen clutched my arms tighter across his chest as my cum continued to drain from his ass and we chatted. Eventually, we were kissing more than talking. He felt my cock rising. "Either someone has taken a little blue pill" he joked, "or there's an anaconda in this chair."

I boasted, "No pharmaceutical assistance is needed with your sweet tush in my lap."

I slithered from beneath him, freeing my snake. He was slumped with his ass at the edge of the cushion. I used the towel to gently clean him and took the opportunity to consider the delicate beauty of this much-maligned part of the male anatomy. "Your... it's lovely. What should I call it?"

"You can call it whatever you want. It's yours, Mr. Phil."

"No. I want to call it what you want me to."

"Well for you it's my pussy. It will always be my pussy for you."

That pussy remained slightly agape. I imagined that it was still raw from the pounding so I moistened my tongue and slathered his tender hole. I imagined my juice was a salve and I applied it generously with plush strokes. I applied tickling, dappling swipes to work the soothing dampness deeper. Then swaddling, wide swathes to assuage the supple tissue. He opened himself under my dewy ministrations and he moaned and twitched. I was enraptured by the delights that I knew his ass held.

I moved upward and took his diminutive nubbling into my mouth. Comparing his erect penis to a Vienna sausage is terrible on so many levels, but is, in fact, a tad generous. Still, a cock is a cock. I could feel it quiver between my lips and feel its heat on my tongue. I witnessed the bolts of pleasure that shot through him. Small as it was - misshapen and red - it was still a cock.

"Ohh, Mr. Phil..." You could count on your fingers and toes the number of blow jobs Allen had received in his forty years. A handful of those were mine. I wetted my finger and tickled his hole. He tried to grab it with his sphincter but I continued teasing.

I played my tongue across his pseudo-phallus, knowing by now where his sensitive spots were, plundering them at will. My finger accepted entrance. I rolled it around the portal. So much smaller than my manhood, my finger could find the tiny places where individual sensations dwelt. I felt wee arcs of pleasure pulse beneath my fingertip. When he had lingered in reverie long enough, I pushed my finger in further to his nirvana spot.

Strumming that spot, I sucked and swaddled his long-neglected cock. He thrust himself against my mouth, longing for release. His hips rose higher and rocked. I struggled to keep my mouth and finger in place. Then he tensed into a straining arch and loosed his jizz into my cum-hungry mouth. His body racked with each ejaculation, three, four, and then he was spent and collapsed.

I knew there was an error in what I was doing, making love to him the way that I did. For me, we were having a passing tryst. For Allen, we were having a romantic getaway. A havre d'amour, as he put it in his tortured High School French. You see, Allen was in love with me. Maddeningly so. After a lifetime of emotional exploitation, he had met someone who considered his sexual needs and cared enough to satisfy them. He poured all his affection into our encounters. I could see it in his eyes and feel it in his kisses. His moans were a plea for so much more than passion. They were a declaration of his love. If he could not capture my heart, then he would entrap my yearning within his wanton fuckery. He wanted me for a lifetime whichever way he could get me. Knowing all this did not me feel like a virile stud. It made me feel like a charlatan, a fraud. A very weak fraud often governed by his darker angels. Just watch...

"Do you like my cock?" I asked.

Allen looked at me with a bit of dismay. I continued, "Cause I want you to know that I really like your cock." Our eyes were deeply locked. "I really like the taste of your cum." His face flushed. I doubt he had ever heard words like that before. "I love how your body quakes whenever I lick your cock clean of your savory cream." His eyes were moist. "So, I'm not asking if you like cock in general. We both know that you do." I stood so my substantial, hard member was fully on display. "I'm asking if you like my cock in particular?"

He took a moment to gaze upon it, then leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my pillowy head. "I love your cock so much."

I turned his chin so he was peering directly into my eyes. "Will you call me Mr. Phil like you do? I love it when you do that. Will you say, Mr. Phil, I love your cock?"

I could see the heat rise in his eyes. "Mr. Phil, I love your cock. I love your beautiful cock, Mr. Phil."

I scooched down until my lips were inches from his. His eyes were fevered now. "Once more, please."

"Mr. Phil..." His voice was earthy, "I love your cock" He became lost within the long, sweet kiss that followed. Later, as my manhood slowly pierced him, he whispered, "Mr. Phil, I love your beautiful cock so much."

He got his wish this time. When I finally climaxed, he was holding my face between his loving hands. My lips were puckered from our last kiss as a deep, growling moan escaped and fireworks erupted in my eyes. Blast after blast of my cum erupted into him. Finally, I collapsed at his feet and became a drop cloth beneath his leaking hole. Eventually, he padded off, closing the bedroom door to keep me out and I heard the shower run. I was glad for the respite from Allen's attention. I lay there for a long time in my waning passion, basting in my ass-sullied cum and the foulness of my suppurating conscience. Finally, with a shrug, I resorted to the kitchen sink for my sanitary needs. I stood there dreading about the discussion we were going to have. A new woman had moved to town and she and I had started dating. From the start, I felt an emotional connection that I would never have with Allen. My cock yearned for the man but my heart never would. In fairness to Allen, I had to break our sexual liaison. Over and over in my mind, I rehearsed different ways of telling him but I could not find the words that would not break his heart.

That was where Allen found me. He hugged me from behind, his hands tight against my pecs, his nakedness pressed firmly against my back, his tiny cock lost between my cheeks. After all the passion we had already exchanged, he still whimpered for more, craving something deeper. Intimacy, no matter how delicious, always came tainted by unrelenting neediness with Allen.

Hiding my pangs of guilt, I asked, "You like making me happy, don't you?"

His fingers pressed further into my flesh. "I love to make you happy, Mr. Phil."

"But how about you? Is it good for you?"

He was rubbing his lips over the flesh of my shoulder. "Oh Mr. Phil, you treat me..." His words just trailed off in a languorous sigh.

I don't know if you've ever been seduced by a person's total devotion. There is a sense of omnipotence knowing that a person is enslaved by their need to pleasure you, to become a felicitous, fleshy agent to your every whim. It's intoxicating. It yields a buzz like no other. I tell myself that it's okay to indulge in moderation. You can sip, you can taste, but you cannot slake your own need only to leave the other abandoned in a barren desert. It is so easy to lie to yourself, even when you are aware of what you are doing. Such is the nature of being seduced.

Allen took my hand. He couldn't contain his excitement as he led me away. "I've planned something special for you. I think it'll blow your mind. But promise me you'll be open to something new. You can be awfully twitchy about your ass."

Suddenly, I was terrified.

There was incense burning in the bedroom and a sheet covered the bed. Exotic instruments played Far Eastern music. Allen had me lie on my stomach and he drizzled warm oil on my back. It smelled of jasmine. Allen knelt at my head and proceeded to rub my shoulders and back in slow, sensuous strokes. "This isn't so bad," I thought and quickly forgot my trepidations regarding my ass.

I was in a reverie by the time Allen scooted to my feet and started to massage my legs. He rubbed the hamstrings in long, rolling strokes. Then his hands would trail downward to my inner thigh. They became more like caresses. Yes, they relaxed the muscles but they also incited the sinuous nerve endings. My tensions eased as my yearning increased.

A trickle of warm fragrant oil drizzled over my butt checks and seeped into my ass crack. I jolted. "Shhhh," he urged. His hands made circles over the firm orbs and kneaded them deeply. It felt great. I relaxed. Then his slick fingers eased downward and gently pulled my cheeks open, gently stretching them outward. Cool air bathed my anus. He released my cheeks, then did it again, stretching the flesh further, his fingers probing every strand and sinew in my glutes. Three, four, five times. Wider with every stretch. My anus started to open. Cool air reached a place I could only describe as inside.

More warm jasmine oil. Or was it lavender? It insinuated into every pore and crevice leaving me feeling anointed, warm, and fragrant down to my dankest flesh. "Shhhh."

I think it was his thumb that began to make the slow trek from the top of my butt crease downward. It traced over the tender anus causing me to cringe and hunch. "Shhhh." It continued down over my perineum, tickling and pleasuring. Then back up. My anus flinched again. A few more traverses and the cringing settled into acceptance.

"What you'll feel next is the knuckle of my second finger." With my cheeks stretched open, Allen slowly pressed his knuckle against the center of my anus. I bucked against his hand, resistant to any entry. "Shhhh." He held it motionless for a long moment then pressed slightly, then more. I opened. It did not penetrate. It was more like a foot in the door, as it lingered at the portal until I relaxed.

Then it started to vibrate in tiny side-to-side motions. Slowly, then more quickly, it strummed the edges of my anus. I imagined a bow arcing across the bass string of a cello, resonating with the deep strains of my core, causing all the nerves of my groin and gut to vibrate on a singular frequency. Harmony.

"Where did you learn this, this... sorcery?"

"Oh, I've never done this before. I got a box set of erotic massage DVDs on Amazon." Of course, you did, I thought. He directed me to roll over.

He positioned a pillow to raise my hips and spread my thighs so he could kneel between them. Then he proceeded to give me an exquisite phallic massage without once making contact with my penis. He glanced fingertips over the tender flesh flanking the scrotum. He probed the crease between groin and thigh. He caressed the lower abs. He circled his thumb over the taught canvas of my perineum. He incited every sensory point surrounding my penis, focusing the delicious flourishes on my epicenter, my cock. I was erect and thrumming, a yearning radiating to the very tip of my cockhead. He kept me at that high plain of stimulation until my whole consciousness was centered there. I felt the very essence of my being palpitating beneath Allen's deft fingertips. I was willing to follow wherever they led.

So when his finger grazed my anus, I was relaxed and accepting. When it pressed and penetrated, I gasped but did not recoil. When it found the place it sought, I was thrilled beyond expectation. With one hand he daintily incited the delicate nerves peripheral to my cock. With the other hand, he stroked my prostate. Two pulses of erotic energy converged on my sacral chakra, the locus of emotions and sexual pleasure, merging and amplifying. Surging waves of euphoria swept over me as he gently rocked the node side to side. It swelled and a warmth permeated and built slowly until it felt like magma rising from my loins. Allen sensed my eruption. His finger retreated from my ass, leaving a void begging for fulfillment.

"Now that you've been introduced to the centers of physical love," he recited from a DVD audio track, "the pathway will remain forever open and await your return."

Allen moved higher on my body and straddled my waist. He guided my cock to his entryway and lowered his pussy until it engulfed my manhood in its hot, undulating embrace. There was no driving lust, no rising frenzy of abandon. My chakra melted into his. He leaned forward and rode my cock delectably up the shaft and down. Our breaths were synced, our hearts melded. Our union evolved into a mystical ritual of carnal worship. Along with the higher realm of bliss there existed a deeper sanctum of heat and light. We worshiped there together.

Then, Allen leaned back. He concentrated his undulations on the upper side of my cockhead and directed its pressure across his prostate. Then his finger returned to the open pathway of my ass. He penetrated and found once more my inner spot. The thrill that shot through me caused my cock to spasm, conveying the same thrill to his inner spot. We thrummed, and quaked, and moaned as one. The plush head of my cock across the bulb of his gland was matched by the stroking of his finger across the bulb of mine. Linked, we rose and sluiced along the same wave of rapture. Our passions rose in harmony. I raised my hips, affording deeper entry. He rose along with me, maintaining the same point of contact between us, the same connection of man to man. Higher, our ardor rose. Our breath and heartbeat climbed. We reached the peak together. His cum bathed my torso as mine flooded his deep chamber.

Long rays of afternoon sunlight washed the room when I awoke. He had been watching me sleep. I smiled while gazing into his eyes then planted a tender kiss on his lips. Long we lingered within that kiss until it ended like an ebbing tide. I wondered, was I wrong about breaking up? Could this last?

We took a sudsy, steaming shower together but were too spent to do more than kiss and caress. Afterward, I fired up the grill and Allen popped open a couple of ice-cold beers. I had lost a lot of fluids over the course of our day-long debauch so Budweiser never tasted so good. While the briquets burned down to coals, I rubbed spices into the steaks. Allen sucked my fingers inside his juicy mouth until they were clean.

There were a couple of other cabins scattered around this Ozarks lake. I insisted that Allen wear proper clothes and refrain from physical contact when outside. Yes, I had to reiterate, even blow jobs. After dinner, we sat in an Adirondack-style loveseat shielded from sight by the deck rail. Allen held my cock like a teenager holding hands. I played with his hair. The sun lowered. There was no need for words. We were at peace until the first mosquito buzzed and Allen ran inside.