SWORN ENEMIES
The rain was lashing at the windshield, coming down so fiercely that I could barely make out the yellow centerline on the highway. I had lived in this part of the world all my life and had never seen anything like it. The wind was howling, shaking the car from side to side when I was out in the open, smashing the trees together like toothpicks when I drove through their dubious shelter.
I was alone on the highway as far as I could tell--evidently everyone else had heeded the weatherman's warnings of severe thunderstorms and stayed at home. I would have pulled off to wait out the storm, but there were no shoulders along this stretch of the road. There was a boulder-studded embankment on one side and a sharp drop-off on the other, so I crept forward, scanning the roadside for a safe haven. Besides, I was only a couple of miles out of town--what could possibly happen?
The tree fell without warning. I slammed on the brakes and veered into the opposite lane, pumping my brakes like mad. Then I saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle. I yanked the steering wheel back to the right, lost control and plummeted down a steep, rocky incline, studded with large trees. Before the back of my car left the roadway, the oncoming vehicle hit me hard, wrenching the steering wheel from my hand. I crossed my arms over my face and hoped it would all be over in a hurry.
The impact jarred me, but I didn't lose consciousness. On the contrary, everything was extremely clear--the gauges on the dash, the gleaming chrome on the steering wheel, even the ornament on the hood of my car, now strangely close to the windshield. I didn't see any blood, and I appeared to be able to move my arms and legs, so I calmly unfastened my seat belt and pulled on the door handle.
Nothing. The handle moved, but the door was jammed shut. My windows were power operated, and the car had died upon impact, so I couldn't roll them down. I leaned across to the other door, but it was jammed as well, trapping me in the wreck of my automobile. I spun around in the seat and aimed a kick at the window, but my tennis shoes were no match for the new improved safety glass. Panic welled up in me, especially when I smelled the odor of burning electrical wire. I was beginning to pound on the window with my fists when I suddenly heard a hoarse voice, close at hand.
"Get away from the fucking window!" I focused beyond the inside of the car and saw a big man, wielding a crowbar. I ducked down in the seat and was almost instantly covered with tiny pellets of shattered glass. "Can you move?" he asked urgently. I nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here. There's a fire under the hood!"
I got my head and shoulders through the window, then the man dragged me the rest of the way out, threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and started sprinting up the hill, back to the road. I held on tight, watching in fascination as the flames began licking around the ruins of my car. We had just reached the road when there was a blinding flash and the whole thing went up in a huge ball of fire. I could feel the heat on my face, even though we were over a hundred yards distant by now. My heart started pounding so hard I thought it was going to explode as well, just thinking what would have happened to me if this stranger hadn't come along to rescue me.
He strode on to a van with the right front tire neatly folded under the chassis and set me down gently. "Are you hurt, buddy?" he panted, his face half-hidden by a rubberized fisherman's hat. I nodded and pushed my longish blond hair out of my eyes. The man stiffened and moved back abruptly. "What the shit?" The jerky motion knocked his hat off and I sat up with a jolt.
"Carl Danton?" I gasped, not wanting to believe my eyes. If there was one guy in the world who would have run me off the road on purpose, it was Carl. Good thing he hadn't recognized me before the rescue--otherwise, I might currently be barbecuing at the bottom of the embankment. Carl shook his head in disgust and stood up, leaving me sprawled on the road.
We had known each other all through high school, but we had never been friends. Carl ran with the rough set--guys who cut classes and swaggered around in torn jeans and white T-shirts with the sleeves rolled up onto their shoulders--and I was a model student and captain of the swim team. We had nothing in common and never spoke, except to exchange barbs and sneers when our crowds crossed paths.
I'd been aware of him all during my senior year--nobody who liked guys could have failed to notice Carl. He was tall and built like a rock. About the only class he hadn't cut on a regular basis was gym. I'd seen him many times, monopolizing the Universal equipment, pumping himself up to eye-popping proportions. His biceps bulged like veiny grapefruits and his forearms were corded with muscle. He had a thick, hairy chest and his torso tapered down to narrow hips and a solid ass that filled the seat of his Levi’s to perfection. Add a ruggedly handsome face and an unruly mop of glossy black curls and you've got the recipe for one hell of a hot man.
I knew for a fact that he had been as aware of me as I was of him. When I was doing stretches before putting in my laps in the pool, I'd catch him staring at me, his face a grim mask. I'd even noticed him at a few of the swim meets that took place in town, always standing back from the rest of the crowd, unsmiling and alone. I often wanted to confront him and call his bluff, but I'd never quite had the nerve.
I hadn't seen him in the two years since I graduated, and he looked better than ever. He was looking at the front of his van, his big hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and the soaking fabric was clinging to his sculpted torso like a second skin. If anything, he'd gotten even hotter since the last time I saw him.
When I stood up I noticed two things--first, I was getting chilled by the torrential rain, and second, I was naked except for my tennis shoes and a jockstrap. Apparently, my shorts had caught on the window of the car and been left behind. I had taken my shirt off because, before the storm broke, it was extremely hot and muggy. No doubt that was burned to ashes as well by now.
"I'm cold," I said, hugging my arms to my chest. Carl turned and glared at me, but he didn't say anything. The man had the most intense stare I'd ever experienced. It felt like his eyes were burning holes through me. "Do you think I could climb into the van?"
"Sure," he said finally, stepping forward and wrenching the door open. I scrambled inside and Carl followed, slamming the door behind him. It was warm and dry inside and I felt better immediately. Carl sat cross-legged on the floor of the van and leaned back against the back of the driver's seat. I had a feeling that two years had done nothing to improve his conversational skills.
"Thanks for saving my life," I said sincerely. "If you hadn't come so fast, I would have burned to death. Good thing you didn't know it was me. Then you probably wouldn't have bothered." I laughed weakly at my morbid joke, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze.
"You haven't changed much, have you?" he replied, his deep voice a noncommittal monotone. "Still the smart guy who doesn't take anything seriously."
"Hey," I protested, "I take the fact that you saved my life very seriously. I was just saying that I was probably the last person you'd really want to save from a situation like that. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful."
"Christ, Lyons, you're so fucking stupid it makes me sick. Captain of the fucking swim team, president of the fucking senior class--everybody's fair-haired wonder boy! You're still just as big a dickhead as you ever were. What an asshole!"
"Lay off, Carl," I fumed, "I'm not in the mood right now. If you want, I'll get out of the van."
"And do what? Drown, freeze or get electrocuted?" A brilliant flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder punctuated his thoughts effectively. "Just sit there and shut the fuck up."
"I'm not afraid of you, Carl," I sneered. "And I don't have to sit here and take orders from you. I can think of a lot of people I'd rather be spending time with, myself. Why don't you try to keep your ignorant attempts at personality analysis to yourself? In fact, why don't you just sit there and try to figure yourself out?"
"Fuck you, Lyons," he snarled, his big shoulders tensing dangerously.
"I'm going to take my chances with the weather," I told him, reaching for the door latch. He splayed his big hand on my bare chest and shoved me hard.
"I'm not going to let you go out there and get yourself killed," he hollered when I glared over at him. "At least try to act like you've got a brain."
"Get out of my fucking way, you loser!" I practically screamed, lunging for the door. Carl leaned into my path and our shoulders smashed together. I grabbed his shirt and the thin fabric ripped noisily, splitting open from the neck down to the waistband of his shorts. The wet hairs on his chest curled tightly against his bulging pecs and I could clearly see little droplets of water clinging to the line of fur that ran down the center of his washboard belly.
I didn't get to stare for long. He lunged forward and pinned me to the floor of the van. I fought back fiercely, looking for the opportunity to get my knee into his crotch and jam his balls up into his throat. We rolled back and forth, struggling and grunting, both of us with fire in our eyes.
I was gripping his biceps--they were like warm rocks, my fingers unable to even dent the huge mass of muscle. He was lying on top of me as we struggled, his body warm, even through his wet clothes. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his snorting breath on my neck. His hands were on my sides, squeezing the breath out of me.
I stopped struggling, suddenly aware of other sensations--feelings that startled me out of my fit of rage. His cock was hard as a steel bar, pressing against me from my crotch, up beyond my navel. I opened my eyes and looked up into his face, not quite believing what I was feeling.
Carl was looking back at me, his brown eyes glittering. His gaze was still intense, but he was no longer angry. I'd been with enough men over the past couple of years to recognize lust when I saw it, and I was seeing it at that instant. I was feeling it as well. I guess I'd always wanted him, even when I was noisily denying it by my words and actions. Now I was alone with him, pinned under his solid bulk, my prick getting as hard as his.
Without warning, Carl lowered his head and kissed me, full on the lips. Not a clumsy smack, but an open-mouthed, tongue-thrusting kiss that demanded a response. My response was to kiss him back, letting my tongue twine around his as we fought for dominance. Carl won this round as well, leaving me gasping from the savage urgency of his need.
The pressure of his hands against my sides lessened as he began stroking up and down my rib cage, his fingers delicately tracing the fan of my lats from waist to armpits. When his callused thumbs grazed the thick points of my tits, I shuddered under his weight and my dick surged with blood. He rubbed them again and I groaned softly as I drove my tongue down his throat. Carl broke our kiss finally and licked down my neck and across my chest. When his teeth sank into my left tit, I almost came on the spot. A spark of sheer animal pleasure shot down to my groin, making my nuts shift in their leathery pouch. He played with my nipples till my toes were starting to curl, then scooted down further, licking my belly and the waistband of my jock.
He pulled the strap down with his teeth, fully exposing my aching prick. I looked down along my torso and saw him licking his lips as he stared at my blue-veined cockshaft. The tip of his tongue flickered along my
tube and my knob flared out like a big red mushroom. He lapped along the entire length, scooping the cock honey out of my navel when he reached the tip. My hips bucked involuntarily, smacking against his chin.
His mouth was warm and wet and his strong tongue was everywhere, torturing every nerve and fiber of my cock, and teaching me that you could feel a good blowjob all over your body. Within minutes, I was tingling from head to toe, my fingers massaging his heavy shoulders. At least now I knew why he'd stared at me so intently in gym class--evidently he had wanted me as badly as I had wanted him. Only I had the feeling that he'd been more honest about admitting it, at least to himself.
Without warning, Carl got up on his knees and flipped me over. He spread my thighs wide and grabbed my hips, raising them till my asshole smacked against his mouth. That long, strong tongue got into the action again, drilling a starter hole up my manhole. I bucked and writhed, damn near driven over the edge by his incredible sensuality.
I wanted Carl's cock in my mouth, so I raised up, tucked my head down and scooted back, resting on my shoulders. I forced my head between his hairy thighs and found my reward. His big prick was heavily hooded, thick streams of clear juice drooling out the crinkled folds of skin sheathing his knob. I licked the lube up greedily, then started tugging on his cock cover, jamming my tongue into the tight sleeve so I could get at his slippery knob. When I made contact, his tongue shot halfway to my tonsils, and his hips thrust forward, filling my clutching throat with a long, enormously thick cock.
I sucked him till I was blue in the face, not wanting to leave him long enough to come up for air. The sensations that were coursing through me were too intense to interrupt. I finally slipped off long enough to take a quick breath, then enjoyed the pleasure of swallowing him to the hilt all over again. His heavy balls rolled around against my forehead, nice and hot and smelling of.
I yelped in protest when Carl grabbed me by the waist, flipped me up and sat me in his lap. My back rubbed against his furry chest and his tongue traced the curves of my ear. "I want to fuck you, Jeff," he whispered, his voice a velvety, purring rumble. It was the first time I'd ever heard him say my first name--I guess I figured he didn't know what it was. I nodded agreement, feeling his love muscle stretching halfway to my shoulder blades, wondering how I'd accommodate his size.
I squatted over him, my butt rubbing his gut, his hands still firmly clamped around my waist. I milked both of us for all the lube I could get, smearing it liberally over his knob and down along the shaft. Carl shucked back his skin and squeezed the base of his dong, holding it steady for my descent. I relaxed my thighs till I felt his cocksnout against my puckered ring. Then I tensed slightly, raised up and bounced back down. My assring stretched, but not enough to hook over his crown. Determined to take him, I bounced up and thrust down again. My second attempt was rewarded with a sharp pain as he began sinking into my throbbing asshole.
"Take it slow and easy," I panted, my hands gripping his hard thighs. I arched my back and threw back my head, hoping that maybe he'd want to kiss me again. He did, his tongue plugging into my throat like his dick was driving up my shitter. All the time he was impaling me, he was rubbing my flat belly and stroking the insides of my trembling thighs, never forcing, never pushing me faster than I could take it.
Carl whimpered when my buttring grabbed the base of his meat. His long, silky bush was tickling my crack and my ass was full to capacity. "You want it, Jeff?" he croaked, his voice ragged with desire.
"Fuck me, man. Make up for all that time we've lost." He raised up on his knees and pushed me forward, fucking me doggy style. I waggled my ass back and forth, pushing back to meet his powerful, gut-wrenching thrusts. His cock knob was so damned big, I could feel it reaming me out, every inch of the way. It hit my prostate on every stroke, making me leak like a broken water pipe. The feelings I was experiencing were so intense that I had my head on the floor, pounding my fists against the side of the van in rhythm with Carl's increasingly frantic thrusts.
We'd been going at it for about fifteen minutes and his big balls were no longer slapping against my thighs. They had drawn up tight along his shaft and were getting slammed against my stretched-out assring. "I love feeling your balls trying to climb up in me," I panted, flexing my asshole around his pistoning prick.
"You want 'em, man? They're yours," he rumbled. He stopped humping and pulled about halfway out of me. I looked over my shoulder and saw him grip his prick and slide his nuts up along the shaft, stretching their cords out tight as fiddle strings. "Back up and gobble these big eggs up, man," he commanded, rubbing them against my ring. I bucked and grunted and all of a sudden, they were in. I had his frigging nuts up in my asshole, rolling around like a couple of those oriental pleasure balls I'd read about.
Carl liked it as much as I did, judging by the way he started putting it to me. He worked his hips like a jackhammer, building up enough heat to put me in danger of bursting into flames all over again. I worked my asshole every way I could think of, doing everything I could to make him feel the fuck as intensely as I was feeling it.
From the sound of it, Carl was moving rapidly into the home stretch. His cock was flexing and thrashing up in my reamed-out chute and the sweat was pouring off his big body, dripping down onto my back and ass. I kept on pushing back against him, grinding my butt against his pelvis. I hadn't even thought about touching my own meat, I was so intent on his pleasure. It was odd, because I've always been the first one to make sure that Jeff Lyon's was having a good time. Now, I was savoring his build-up to orgasm almost as intensely as he was. Besides, I knew that if I even so much as touched myself, I'd blow in an instant, and I didn't want to leave Carl behind when that moment arrived.
As it turned out, there was no worry of that. Carl stopped humping abruptly, pulled me back against him and buried his face in my neck as he sprayed my fuck chute full of his cream. His nuts snapped back tight on their cords, popping out of my butt like a cork out of champagne. His big paw squeezed my shaft and I let fly--spouting jism up to the roof of the van and all over the windows in the back doors.
"Oh, man, I've dreamed about that for years," Carl confided when we were sprawled out side by side, listening to the pounding rain on the roof. "My whole senior year was hell. The only reason I stayed in school was because you were there and I thought I couldn't live without seeing you. You're just as hot as I always fantasized you would be."
"I know what you mean," I chuckled, squeezing his hand in mine. "I feel like my favorite wet dream suddenly came to life. The only difference is that my dream wasn't nearly as good as the real thing. Thanks."
"Yeah," Carl muttered, returning the hand pressure. I sighed happily, wondering how I could have been so stupid as to consider this sensual hunk of male flesh to be my sworn enemy. I had a hunch that it was going to be much more productive to change my way of thinking about him. I groped for his rubbery prick and rolled over on top of him, ready to put my new point of view to the test.
The rain was lashing at the windshield, coming down so fiercely that I could barely make out the yellow centerline on the highway. I had lived in this part of the world all my life and had never seen anything like it. The wind was howling, shaking the car from side to side when I was out in the open, smashing the trees together like toothpicks when I drove through their dubious shelter.
I was alone on the highway as far as I could tell--evidently everyone else had heeded the weatherman's warnings of severe thunderstorms and stayed at home. I would have pulled off to wait out the storm, but there were no shoulders along this stretch of the road. There was a boulder-studded embankment on one side and a sharp drop-off on the other, so I crept forward, scanning the roadside for a safe haven. Besides, I was only a couple of miles out of town--what could possibly happen?
The tree fell without warning. I slammed on the brakes and veered into the opposite lane, pumping my brakes like mad. Then I saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle. I yanked the steering wheel back to the right, lost control and plummeted down a steep, rocky incline, studded with large trees. Before the back of my car left the roadway, the oncoming vehicle hit me hard, wrenching the steering wheel from my hand. I crossed my arms over my face and hoped it would all be over in a hurry.
The impact jarred me, but I didn't lose consciousness. On the contrary, everything was extremely clear--the gauges on the dash, the gleaming chrome on the steering wheel, even the ornament on the hood of my car, now strangely close to the windshield. I didn't see any blood, and I appeared to be able to move my arms and legs, so I calmly unfastened my seat belt and pulled on the door handle.
Nothing. The handle moved, but the door was jammed shut. My windows were power operated, and the car had died upon impact, so I couldn't roll them down. I leaned across to the other door, but it was jammed as well, trapping me in the wreck of my automobile. I spun around in the seat and aimed a kick at the window, but my tennis shoes were no match for the new improved safety glass. Panic welled up in me, especially when I smelled the odor of burning electrical wire. I was beginning to pound on the window with my fists when I suddenly heard a hoarse voice, close at hand.
"Get away from the fucking window!" I focused beyond the inside of the car and saw a big man, wielding a crowbar. I ducked down in the seat and was almost instantly covered with tiny pellets of shattered glass. "Can you move?" he asked urgently. I nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here. There's a fire under the hood!"
I got my head and shoulders through the window, then the man dragged me the rest of the way out, threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and started sprinting up the hill, back to the road. I held on tight, watching in fascination as the flames began licking around the ruins of my car. We had just reached the road when there was a blinding flash and the whole thing went up in a huge ball of fire. I could feel the heat on my face, even though we were over a hundred yards distant by now. My heart started pounding so hard I thought it was going to explode as well, just thinking what would have happened to me if this stranger hadn't come along to rescue me.
He strode on to a van with the right front tire neatly folded under the chassis and set me down gently. "Are you hurt, buddy?" he panted, his face half-hidden by a rubberized fisherman's hat. I nodded and pushed my longish blond hair out of my eyes. The man stiffened and moved back abruptly. "What the shit?" The jerky motion knocked his hat off and I sat up with a jolt.
"Carl Danton?" I gasped, not wanting to believe my eyes. If there was one guy in the world who would have run me off the road on purpose, it was Carl. Good thing he hadn't recognized me before the rescue--otherwise, I might currently be barbecuing at the bottom of the embankment. Carl shook his head in disgust and stood up, leaving me sprawled on the road.
We had known each other all through high school, but we had never been friends. Carl ran with the rough set--guys who cut classes and swaggered around in torn jeans and white T-shirts with the sleeves rolled up onto their shoulders--and I was a model student and captain of the swim team. We had nothing in common and never spoke, except to exchange barbs and sneers when our crowds crossed paths.
I'd been aware of him all during my senior year--nobody who liked guys could have failed to notice Carl. He was tall and built like a rock. About the only class he hadn't cut on a regular basis was gym. I'd seen him many times, monopolizing the Universal equipment, pumping himself up to eye-popping proportions. His biceps bulged like veiny grapefruits and his forearms were corded with muscle. He had a thick, hairy chest and his torso tapered down to narrow hips and a solid ass that filled the seat of his Levi’s to perfection. Add a ruggedly handsome face and an unruly mop of glossy black curls and you've got the recipe for one hell of a hot man.
I knew for a fact that he had been as aware of me as I was of him. When I was doing stretches before putting in my laps in the pool, I'd catch him staring at me, his face a grim mask. I'd even noticed him at a few of the swim meets that took place in town, always standing back from the rest of the crowd, unsmiling and alone. I often wanted to confront him and call his bluff, but I'd never quite had the nerve.
I hadn't seen him in the two years since I graduated, and he looked better than ever. He was looking at the front of his van, his big hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and the soaking fabric was clinging to his sculpted torso like a second skin. If anything, he'd gotten even hotter since the last time I saw him.
When I stood up I noticed two things--first, I was getting chilled by the torrential rain, and second, I was naked except for my tennis shoes and a jockstrap. Apparently, my shorts had caught on the window of the car and been left behind. I had taken my shirt off because, before the storm broke, it was extremely hot and muggy. No doubt that was burned to ashes as well by now.
"I'm cold," I said, hugging my arms to my chest. Carl turned and glared at me, but he didn't say anything. The man had the most intense stare I'd ever experienced. It felt like his eyes were burning holes through me. "Do you think I could climb into the van?"
"Sure," he said finally, stepping forward and wrenching the door open. I scrambled inside and Carl followed, slamming the door behind him. It was warm and dry inside and I felt better immediately. Carl sat cross-legged on the floor of the van and leaned back against the back of the driver's seat. I had a feeling that two years had done nothing to improve his conversational skills.
"Thanks for saving my life," I said sincerely. "If you hadn't come so fast, I would have burned to death. Good thing you didn't know it was me. Then you probably wouldn't have bothered." I laughed weakly at my morbid joke, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze.
"You haven't changed much, have you?" he replied, his deep voice a noncommittal monotone. "Still the smart guy who doesn't take anything seriously."
"Hey," I protested, "I take the fact that you saved my life very seriously. I was just saying that I was probably the last person you'd really want to save from a situation like that. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful."
"Christ, Lyons, you're so fucking stupid it makes me sick. Captain of the fucking swim team, president of the fucking senior class--everybody's fair-haired wonder boy! You're still just as big a dickhead as you ever were. What an asshole!"
"Lay off, Carl," I fumed, "I'm not in the mood right now. If you want, I'll get out of the van."
"And do what? Drown, freeze or get electrocuted?" A brilliant flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder punctuated his thoughts effectively. "Just sit there and shut the fuck up."
"I'm not afraid of you, Carl," I sneered. "And I don't have to sit here and take orders from you. I can think of a lot of people I'd rather be spending time with, myself. Why don't you try to keep your ignorant attempts at personality analysis to yourself? In fact, why don't you just sit there and try to figure yourself out?"
"Fuck you, Lyons," he snarled, his big shoulders tensing dangerously.
"I'm going to take my chances with the weather," I told him, reaching for the door latch. He splayed his big hand on my bare chest and shoved me hard.
"I'm not going to let you go out there and get yourself killed," he hollered when I glared over at him. "At least try to act like you've got a brain."
"Get out of my fucking way, you loser!" I practically screamed, lunging for the door. Carl leaned into my path and our shoulders smashed together. I grabbed his shirt and the thin fabric ripped noisily, splitting open from the neck down to the waistband of his shorts. The wet hairs on his chest curled tightly against his bulging pecs and I could clearly see little droplets of water clinging to the line of fur that ran down the center of his washboard belly.
I didn't get to stare for long. He lunged forward and pinned me to the floor of the van. I fought back fiercely, looking for the opportunity to get my knee into his crotch and jam his balls up into his throat. We rolled back and forth, struggling and grunting, both of us with fire in our eyes.
I was gripping his biceps--they were like warm rocks, my fingers unable to even dent the huge mass of muscle. He was lying on top of me as we struggled, his body warm, even through his wet clothes. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his snorting breath on my neck. His hands were on my sides, squeezing the breath out of me.
I stopped struggling, suddenly aware of other sensations--feelings that startled me out of my fit of rage. His cock was hard as a steel bar, pressing against me from my crotch, up beyond my navel. I opened my eyes and looked up into his face, not quite believing what I was feeling.
Carl was looking back at me, his brown eyes glittering. His gaze was still intense, but he was no longer angry. I'd been with enough men over the past couple of years to recognize lust when I saw it, and I was seeing it at that instant. I was feeling it as well. I guess I'd always wanted him, even when I was noisily denying it by my words and actions. Now I was alone with him, pinned under his solid bulk, my prick getting as hard as his.
Without warning, Carl lowered his head and kissed me, full on the lips. Not a clumsy smack, but an open-mouthed, tongue-thrusting kiss that demanded a response. My response was to kiss him back, letting my tongue twine around his as we fought for dominance. Carl won this round as well, leaving me gasping from the savage urgency of his need.
The pressure of his hands against my sides lessened as he began stroking up and down my rib cage, his fingers delicately tracing the fan of my lats from waist to armpits. When his callused thumbs grazed the thick points of my tits, I shuddered under his weight and my dick surged with blood. He rubbed them again and I groaned softly as I drove my tongue down his throat. Carl broke our kiss finally and licked down my neck and across my chest. When his teeth sank into my left tit, I almost came on the spot. A spark of sheer animal pleasure shot down to my groin, making my nuts shift in their leathery pouch. He played with my nipples till my toes were starting to curl, then scooted down further, licking my belly and the waistband of my jock.
He pulled the strap down with his teeth, fully exposing my aching prick. I looked down along my torso and saw him licking his lips as he stared at my blue-veined cockshaft. The tip of his tongue flickered along my
tube and my knob flared out like a big red mushroom. He lapped along the entire length, scooping the cock honey out of my navel when he reached the tip. My hips bucked involuntarily, smacking against his chin. His mouth was warm and wet and his strong tongue was everywhere, torturing every nerve and fiber of my cock, and teaching me that you could feel a good blowjob all over your body. Within minutes, I was tingling from head to toe, my fingers massaging his heavy shoulders. At least now I knew why he'd stared at me so intently in gym class--evidently he had wanted me as badly as I had wanted him. Only I had the feeling that he'd been more honest about admitting it, at least to himself.
Without warning, Carl got up on his knees and flipped me over. He spread my thighs wide and grabbed my hips, raising them till my asshole smacked against his mouth. That long, strong tongue got into the action again, drilling a starter hole up my manhole. I bucked and writhed, damn near driven over the edge by his incredible sensuality.
I wanted Carl's cock in my mouth, so I raised up, tucked my head down and scooted back, resting on my shoulders. I forced my head between his hairy thighs and found my reward. His big prick was heavily hooded, thick streams of clear juice drooling out the crinkled folds of skin sheathing his knob. I licked the lube up greedily, then started tugging on his cock cover, jamming my tongue into the tight sleeve so I could get at his slippery knob. When I made contact, his tongue shot halfway to my tonsils, and his hips thrust forward, filling my clutching throat with a long, enormously thick cock.
I sucked him till I was blue in the face, not wanting to leave him long enough to come up for air. The sensations that were coursing through me were too intense to interrupt. I finally slipped off long enough to take a quick breath, then enjoyed the pleasure of swallowing him to the hilt all over again. His heavy balls rolled around against my forehead, nice and hot and smelling of
. I yelped in protest when Carl grabbed me by the waist, flipped me up and sat me in his lap. My back rubbed against his furry chest and his tongue traced the curves of my ear. "I want to fuck you, Jeff," he whispered, his voice a velvety, purring rumble. It was the first time I'd ever heard him say my first name--I guess I figured he didn't know what it was. I nodded agreement, feeling his love muscle stretching halfway to my shoulder blades, wondering how I'd accommodate his size.
I squatted over him, my butt rubbing his gut, his hands still firmly clamped around my waist. I milked both of us for all the lube I could get, smearing it liberally over his knob and down along the shaft. Carl shucked back his skin and squeezed the base of his dong, holding it steady for my descent. I relaxed my thighs till I felt his cocksnout against my puckered ring. Then I tensed slightly, raised up and bounced back down. My assring stretched, but not enough to hook over his crown. Determined to take him, I bounced up and thrust down again. My second attempt was rewarded with a sharp pain as he began sinking into my throbbing asshole.
"Take it slow and easy," I panted, my hands gripping his hard thighs. I arched my back and threw back my head, hoping that maybe he'd want to kiss me again. He did, his tongue plugging into my throat like his dick was driving up my shitter. All the time he was impaling me, he was rubbing my flat belly and stroking the insides of my trembling thighs, never forcing, never pushing me faster than I could take it.
Carl whimpered when my buttring grabbed the base of his meat. His long, silky bush was tickling my crack and my ass was full to capacity. "You want it, Jeff?" he croaked, his voice ragged with desire.
"Fuck me, man. Make up for all that time we've lost." He raised up on his knees and pushed me forward, fucking me doggy style. I waggled my ass back and forth, pushing back to meet his powerful, gut-wrenching thrusts. His cock knob was so damned big, I could feel it reaming me out, every inch of the way. It hit my prostate on every stroke, making me leak like a broken water pipe. The feelings I was experiencing were so intense that I had my head on the floor, pounding my fists against the side of the van in rhythm with Carl's increasingly frantic thrusts.
We'd been going at it for about fifteen minutes and his big balls were no longer slapping against my thighs. They had drawn up tight along his shaft and were getting slammed against my stretched-out assring. "I love feeling your balls trying to climb up in me," I panted, flexing my asshole around his pistoning prick.
"You want 'em, man? They're yours," he rumbled. He stopped humping and pulled about halfway out of me. I looked over my shoulder and saw him grip his prick and slide his nuts up along the shaft, stretching their cords out tight as fiddle strings. "Back up and gobble these big eggs up, man," he commanded, rubbing them against my ring. I bucked and grunted and all of a sudden, they were in. I had his frigging nuts up in my asshole, rolling around like a couple of those oriental pleasure balls I'd read about.
Carl liked it as much as I did, judging by the way he started putting it to me. He worked his hips like a jackhammer, building up enough heat to put me in danger of bursting into flames all over again. I worked my asshole every way I could think of, doing everything I could to make him feel the fuck as intensely as I was feeling it.
From the sound of it, Carl was moving rapidly into the home stretch. His cock was flexing and thrashing up in my reamed-out chute and the sweat was pouring off his big body, dripping down onto my back and ass. I kept on pushing back against him, grinding my butt against his pelvis. I hadn't even thought about touching my own meat, I was so intent on his pleasure. It was odd, because I've always been the first one to make sure that Jeff Lyon's was having a good time. Now, I was savoring his build-up to orgasm almost as intensely as he was. Besides, I knew that if I even so much as touched myself, I'd blow in an instant, and I didn't want to leave Carl behind when that moment arrived.
As it turned out, there was no worry of that. Carl stopped humping abruptly, pulled me back against him and buried his face in my neck as he sprayed my fuck chute full of his cream. His nuts snapped back tight on their cords, popping out of my butt like a cork out of champagne. His big paw squeezed my shaft and I let fly--spouting jism up to the roof of the van and all over the windows in the back doors.
"Oh, man, I've dreamed about that for years," Carl confided when we were sprawled out side by side, listening to the pounding rain on the roof. "My whole senior year was hell. The only reason I stayed in school was because you were there and I thought I couldn't live without seeing you. You're just as hot as I always fantasized you would be."
"I know what you mean," I chuckled, squeezing his hand in mine. "I feel like my favorite wet dream suddenly came to life. The only difference is that my dream wasn't nearly as good as the real thing. Thanks."
"Yeah," Carl muttered, returning the hand pressure. I sighed happily, wondering how I could have been so stupid as to consider this sensual hunk of male flesh to be my sworn enemy. I had a hunch that it was going to be much more productive to change my way of thinking about him. I groped for his rubbery prick and rolled over on top of him, ready to put my new point of view to the test.
