FRICTION FICTION: HIT ON ME by Landon Dixon (2007)

[monshanjik]

HIT ON ME

By Landon Dixon

(Men.Sept.2007.)

"Grab yourself a beer outta the fridge, Nelson! Lester yelled from the
bathroom.

I actually didn’t drink, but when Lester asked me back to ‘crack one
open’ as an apology for blindsiding me during the pickup football game,
I just couldn't refuse, I'd had a raging crush on the studly guy ever
since my junior year in high school, and now that I was 18 and almost a
100 percent sure of my sexuality, I yearned to do something about it.

So after staring into the fridge for a while, stalling, I sucked up some
courage and tip-toed down the hallway toward the bathroom. The sound of
running water was like a magnet to my pricked up ears. I could just
picture luscious Lester soaping up his rock hard body under the hot
spray.

I slid along the wall tward the bathroom, excitedly noting a crack of
light spilling from around the not-quite-closed door, illuminating
escaping wisps of steam. With my body temperature soaring, face burning
red and lips pursed white, I peeked into the room and nearly combusted
spontaneously on the spot.

There was all-American athlete Lester, naked as the break of day and
twice as bright and beautiful. His muscular body gleamed on full display
through the clear paned shower door. He was soaping up his ebony
physique almost exactly as I’d fantasized, a spray of heated water
cascading over his handsome, fine-featured face and powerful,
mouth-watering torso.

I swallowed a yelp of exultation and bit down on my lip, my cock rising
like a goalpost in my grass stained shorts. I praised the gridiron gods
for the good luck of getting creamed by the most bodacious player on the
football field.

Lester had always been out of my league. While he was a star on the
football and track teams, my biggest accomplishments were writing a
video-game review for the school newspaper and playing third flute —
badly, I admit — in the school band. That’s why I was so stunned when he
rang me up at home and invited me to join the game.

I sure wasn’t much of a player, what with my hands of stone and legs of
lead. But I guess there was a shortage of guys just after graduation.
Some were tied down at summer jobs or away on vacation before college in
the fall. Anyway, I was just ecstatic to get the call. Ecstatic, that
is, until I was picked to be on Trent Duggan’s team, followed by Lester
laying me out like a tarp.

The guy with the gimpy knee covering me fell down a gopher hole or
something and Trent lobbed a balloon my way that even I could catch. But
when I tried to turn it upfield, the 3:30 freight train named Lester
slammed into me head on.

He clocked me like Big Ben, smashing into my chest and sending the
pigskin —and my skin —flying backward for a five yard loss. First my
tailbone crunched down on the tundra, and then my head did, whiplash
fashion. I saw more stars than most astronomers. It took at least three
guys to peel me off the terra way-too firma and unfold me into an
upright position again — one of them being the grinning dude who'd
literally taken my breath away.

I sat out the rest of the game, nursing my head and body, running
through the alphabet to make sure there wasn't any permanent brain
damage. And then Lester unexpectedly invited me to take a ride in his
souped-up Honda hack to his parents' place. The guy obviously had a big
heart to go along with his hard-bodied hunkiness and, as I now saw,
hunkage.

I crowded the crack in the bathroom's doorway, thrilled to ogle a most
wicked dong dangling large — even when soft — from Lester's pube-pebbled
loins. The aches and pains in my body and head were instantly swept away
by a raging wash of hormones. My sexuality had always been a bit of a
question mark to me (and others), but now as I gawked at that shining,
soap and water streaked muscleman in the transparent shower stall with
him gawking at his dripping, hanging horse cock, all of my awkward
questions were finally answered. I wanted that man like a toilet seat
wants ass.

Lester ran the soap between his quad-bunched legs, and under and around
his heavy balls — his cock jumping, foam rising up and surging around
his groin and around the edges of my mouth. As I stared and drooled, I
desperately tried to strategize some sort of game plan, some kind of
seduction scenario that would put me right where that soap was.

But I drew a complete mental blank, my usually rational mind running on
empty thanks to an obvious lack of blood. My hand drifted down to my
shorts, touching my yard marker as I gaped at Lester running the bar of
suds back and forth over his thickly veined dong, 1 licked my lips,
almost tasting the meat. I placed my free hand up under my I shirt and
over my heaving, hairless chest, catching a flared nipple between my
trembling fingers. I groaned, my face and body burning, the steam from
my ears and the shower billowing, the sight of this well built man
lathering his well built genitals blistering my eyeballs and igniting my
other balls.

I moved my hand back and forth across my fabric-encased cock while
shifting into a familiar stroking motion, and accidentally knocked the
door further open. It creaked. I croaked. Lester swung his head away
from the spray and looked at the tall, goofy, redheaded guy with the
blazing blue eyes staring at him from the doorway. His ears were
evidently just as sharp as his elbows.

He grinned and waved me in.

My mouth clanged open, my hands dropped to my sides, and I stayed rooted
to the spot.

He rinsed himself off, opened the stall door, and stepped out of the
tub, gesturing at me again.

Someone — must've been me — finally broke through the shyness barrier
and pushed the door all the way open. I took a step inside the steam
box, then another, my feet moving all on their own.

"Wanna use the shower?" the ebony god asked, grabbing a fresh white
towel and rubbing his face with it.

"Huh?" I replied, lurching forward like Frankendork.

I was fully inside the humid chamber, two-tenths of a first down away
from the toweling stud. I ratcheted my zombie gaze southward from his
smooth, muscle-humped chest, his prominent, coal black nipples, his
ribbed stomach, all the way to his oh-so-impressively cut cock. Time
stood still, like my heart.

Lester glanced up at my bowed head from behind his towel, pearly whites
flashing. Then he flung the towel over a cinderblock shoulder and
casually closed the gap between us, saying, "Guess you got a pretty bad
bruise where I hit you, huh? Let's see."

He yanked my T-shirt from my shorts, and before I could drop the ball
and flee for the sidelines, I was trapped in the garment, helping the
African-American Adonis pull it up over my head.

"Hey, that's not too bad," he said, poking at the small, cherry red
splotch under my right nipple.

"That's a birthmark," I mumbled through the stretched cotton. I pulled
the shirt off, revealing my true injury, the large, purple blotch high
up on my left pec that my arm had been hiding.

"Ouch!" Lester commented. "Does it hurt bad?" He poked it.

Was there pain? Probably. But all that my tingling body registered at
that moment was the sweet kiss of the guy's soft fingertip against my
heated skin. I dropped my shirt on the black and white tiles, my short,
red hair standing up on my head like the even-shorter hairs on my neck
and balls.

Lester's fingertip traced the blue borders of my Oregon-shapcd bruise,
leaving a trail of fire in my loins every millimeter of the way. My body
was ablaze with sensitivity. As he brushed a rigid nipple my knees
buckled. He played the tip of his finger over my erect, pink tit,
charging it even more.

"You probably got a bruise when you hit the ground, too, huh?" he said.

"Wanna see?" I rasped, head and mouth full of cotton.

He nodded, pulling his finger away from my puny frame, a pale imitation
of his broad chest. The things on the ends of my arms — hands you call
them — found the elastic waistband on my shorts and pushed down. Kept
pushing down until my outer and inner shorts were around my knees and my
rock hard cock bounced up and into the open — every pulsing, precocious
inch of it.

Lester looked at my twitching thang, my twitching face, then grasped my
narrow shoulders and turned me around, "Ouch again." I heard him say
before feeling his glorious fingers against my skin, gently touching the
bruised tailbone that he'd planted in the turf so hard.

"Sorry about that, man. Maybe I should offer you more than a beer to
make up for all this, huh?" His fingers rubbed just above my crack, then
slid down into my butt cleavage.

I gasped. His strong hands were on my clenched buttocks, rubbing and
squeezing,

"Geez!" I groaned, leaning back into the guy, the jelly content of my
legs soaring to 99.9 percent.

Lester gripped and kneaded my trembling butt checks, his wet mouth on my
neck, kissing and licking my burning skin. I could feel his warm cock
against my ass, rising up and filling my crack, his tongue swirling in
behind my car. He pumped his hips gently; driving his hard prick further
in between my checks, his wet tongue in my car setting my head to
buzzing. And then his hands were on my chest, cupping and squeezing my
pecs, his long fingers pinching and rolling my needful nipples. I burned
with a wicked tingling sensation, floating on cloud 10.

Lester spun me around and clasped me in his strong arms, our hard cocks
grinding together. Then he pressed his mouth against mine, his thick
lips moving against my lips, the blowtorch heat from our naked bodies
melding us together.

He withdrew his mouth, thoughtfully gauging my reaction. I couldn't form
any words — that fiery first kiss, the supersensuality of another guy’s
pulsating prick against my own rendered me speechless. But when he
licked at my quivering lips with a cotton-candy pink tongue I spoke
volumes to the guy by grabbing his head and mashing my mouth onto his.

I was flaming full-out homosexual for the very first time in my life,
overcome with joy. with a man actually in my arms, against my lips and
cock. I jammed my tongue into his mouth, and we swirled our slippery
mouth muscles together, surging with erotic energy.

"How ‘bout that shower?" he eventually asked after I'd chased his tongue
back into his mouth. Me grinned at me, slowly sliding his hard shaft up
and down against mine. I bobbed my dizzy head.

I just about lost my head when the big guy closed his strong mitt around
my throbbing cock and towed me over to the shower stall. My whole body
pulsed, the heartbeat in my hand wrapped dick thumping like a rabbit's.

I managed to pull my socks off while Lester, still gripping my dick, got
the hot water going again. "Let's clean you up." he said, pulling me
into the tub with him. "Then we’ll see how dirty we can get ya."

His hands were all over me, soaping, rubbing, fondling. I just stood
there and let the player with the soft hands on and off the field detail
me, steam seeping into my ears and fogging my brain, my body a liquid
mass, cock as straight and tight as one of the guy's spirals. And when
he scrubbed around my balls and up and down my stiff pole, I thought for
sure I'd jet my own all over the place.

"How 'bout cleaning me off a little — with your mouth?" Lester suggested
pointing down at his pipe.

In a swoon I dropped to my knees, getting eye to eye with that dark,
oiled snake. It’s vein-popped skin glistened, its giant hooded head
bobbed. I'd never sucked a cock before in my life, let alone a monster
like this one. I suddenly feared I'd blow it — but in a bad way.

But Lester had confidence in my abilities: he gripped his club at the
base with one hand and steered my head toward him with the other. His
huge, purple-black hood pushed against my lips, and I remembered to open
my mouth. The bloated knob glided between my lips, into my mouth, and I
was tasting that soft, chewy flesh, tugging on it.

"Yeah, that's the way," Lester groaned encouragement. He placed his
hands on either side of my head to guide me.

I grabbed onto his hips and watched, cross-eyed, as the gleaming shaft
slid into my mouth, more and more of it. It was an awesome feeling,
mouthing a man's thick meat, feeling the power of dong pulsating away on
my tongue. Then Lester's cock reached my capacity, and his cap bumped up
against the back of my throat. I gagged. He pulled back a little so I
could swallow some spit, and then he started undulating his hips to fuck
my mouth with his cock.

Water hissed off the stud's back and steam rose like my blood pressure
as I moved my head back and forth, matching Lester's movements, I was
actually sucking the man's cock, my lips greasing up and down his meaty
shaft And he praised my efforts by grunting and clutching at my hair
while pulling on his own nipples.

I got bold and grabbed onto his balls, weighing the heavy sac in my hand
as I wet-vacced his dick. He shuddered, muscles dancing all over his
shimmering body. I sucked faster, harder, scraping the skin a bit but
still, really blowing the man.

Until he jerked his dong out of my mouth and left me gasping, gaping,
empty and hungry. I desperately wanted to gorge on his meat, have him
fill my mouth with his lust and taste another man's salty essence. But
Lester had other ideas. He pulled me to my feet and spun me around. Then
he went to his knees behind me, spread my checks apart and without any
hesitation drove his tongue into my asshole.

"God!" I bleated, plastering my hands against the slippery dies, my legs
quivering.

Lester burrowed his tongue deep up into my virgin rear, his wet prober
sending raw bolts of sexual electricity arcing throughout my body. He
licked all around my pucker, up and down my exposed crack, relished my
tightened balls, flogged them with his tongue. I full-body shivered, my
feet slipping out from under me.

He held me up, then growled, "Time to go for the end zone," letting go
of my buzzing bottom and rising to his feet.

I stared over my shoulder and watched him grab the soap and slicken up
his nightstick, felt him lathering up my butt hole. He clutched my waist
with his left hand and steered his cock head against my tight bum with
his right.

"Fuck me," I breathed. "Please!"

I was shaking out of control as the pressure mounted on my pucker. His
hooded knob bulged against my asshole, and then he was inside me,
popping my anal cherry and sliding his cock in all smooth and slick and
sultry.

I dug my fingernails into the grout and groaned as a strange, heavy,
superheated sensation unlike anything I'd ever felt before suffused me.
I had a man's hard cock up my ass. I could hardly believe it — the
full-up feeling was wild and wonderful, utterly blissful, overwhelmingly
sensual. I closed my eyes — I was in sexual heaven.

Lester's muscled thighs pressed up against my checks, and I realized
with a jolt that he was all the way inside me — that thunder-cock was
buried to the balls in my skinny butt. And I'd taken it like a man, with
hardly a whimper. I beamed with pride. He grasped my waist with both
hands and rolled his hips, shifting his dong hack and forth in my
stretched-out tunnel, fucking me.

My head spun and my body smoldered. Lester's erotic sawing action
lending shivers of delight chasing shivers of fulfilled lust. My ass
swelled up and went supercharged, my numbed-hard cock bounced in rhythm
to his thrusting. He pulled me upright, gripped me tight around the
chest, and smacked against me faster and harder, his cock brutally
pistoning in and out of my electrified chute.

"Oh! God'" I moaned jerkily. His tongue was in my ear, his fingers on my
nipples, that cock plundering my asshole.

"Want me to come in your ass, man?" he gritted, biting into my earlobe.

"Yes! Do that — blast my ass!"

He torqued up the pressure even more, and I grabbed onto my flapping
cock. The instant contact sent me boiling over the edge, my senses
blistered raw. My prick was a lit fuse, and I exploded, throwing thick
ropes of semen from my flaming dick tip with every frantic stroke of my
hand and every hump of Lester's center appendage. I came with a fearsome
intensity, sperm spurting forever out of my broken hose of a cock as the
muscle stud rocked against my shuddering ass.

"Fuck, I'm coming, too!" he howled, savagely churning up my channel. His
hot semen sprayed my bowels over and over, both of us blazing our
ecstasy in the midst of that sizzling steam heat.

Afterward, as I lay cuddled in Lester's arms in a warm, soothing bath,
my butt sore but mighty satisfied, the sexual athlete revealed his own
special seduction technique: "Stick 'em, then stick him." he laughed.
Apparently, this wasn't the first time he'd nailed a guy he fancied on
the football field and then "apologized" by nailing the dude back on his
home turf.

Lester was a player all right.

-------------------------
Thanks to original poster in Yahoo! gaymagazinefiction group!
Enjoy!