Beauty and the Beast

First, to all you voyeuristic homos out there, I have to give a big "Thank you!". I keep track of the statistics for this site, in terms of traffic, visitors, sources, etc. I've been increasing readership by about 15% a week for the last three weeks, something I am quite proud of. It's good to know that people enjoy my writing, my life, and my stories.

It makes all the time I spend on writing well worth it.

To my fellow bloggers out there, such as the Big Dicked Bottom, B4Skin and the Montrealer, another "Thanks!" for the links you've provided and the cross traffic that has generated. I love your stories (especially the nasty perverted ones!!) and I hope you enjoy mine in return.

Second, I had today off, as recovery for a 30 hour shift (guard duty blows) that I somehow managed to get stuck with. I just finished watching some dudes (one of whom was my hot pilot stud, Josh) stroke off for me on webcam, and I'm sitting here butt-ass naked, right leg on my desk, load still dripping down my chest. I'll clean it off eventually, but there is no reason to rush, and I love the smell of cum.

There are times when I am an asshole. Not purposefully, I'm really just a big teddy bear once you get to know me, but in the pursuit of cock and ass, sometimes the collateral damage is quite extreme...

My last post detailed the amazing adventure of TopMarine fucking the hot-but-married (for now) bottom Marine, in my kitchen and then my shower. Getting hit over the head, post-coitally I might add, with the admission that someone: A) loves you; B) wants to leave their wife for you; and C) wants a serious, move in tomorrow sort of relationship is an easy way to take great sex and turn the afterglow of it into "holy fuck, what did I just get myself into".

So when the hot Marine bottom left, that was the sort of mess that I found myself in.

I knew that I had to resolve the issue with him soon, and that I had to resolve it with him either staying with his wife or with him leaving her but with the knowledge that it would not be to gain me as a boyfriend. To top it off I had to do it in a manner that did not turn him into a pyschotic stalker (been there, have those, thanks).

Regardless of how the situation will ultimately turn out, I was unwilling, and am still unwilling, to allow him to affect my sex life.

So, a few days later after my emotions cooled down, I set up my next fuck.

Its been awhile since I've been up to Seattle (a week or two) for an extended length of time. While I've been up for dinner with friends and to go out, it hasn't been for longer than a night. Lately I've been enjoying having the guys drive to me and just pound them in my own place, in my own bed and not have to worry about clean up, or getting caught or any of the other problems you have when fucking at a friends place.

So I found this guy on Manhunt. His pics were pretty hot. His listed stats on the site were 28, 5'10" 175 pounds, and who gives a shit about the hair, eyes and the rest.

While I didn't really want to waste time talking about mundane things such as work, he wouldn't shut up for awhile about how he works at Microsoft. For those of you who don't live in Seattle, Microsoft is, of course, based in the Seattle area. Moreover, it has a sizable gay work force. I kept trying to steer the text-conversation away from his job, but he was one happy Zune dude.

I can understand having to do something that is your job...but, seriously. Who the fuck wants to buy a Zune? They're poorly done clones of Apple or Creative products, typically a generation or two behind, clunky, ugly, and the media store that Microsoft uses to as a media dissemination infrastructure sucks. Horribly.

I finally managed to get him to shut up about the fucking Zune (apparently they are launching a new product soon, woo) and back onto the subject of him getting naked and riding my cock. At first he wanted to meet up and get a room in Seattle, but when I made it firmly known that that would be a deal breaker for me, he quickly changed his tune to "I guess I can drive to you..."

Bingo!

I gave him my address, told him to get his ass in the car, to be clean, showered and ready for a pounding and left it at that. I showered, made a bite to eat, and tidied up the house (because it needed it, not because I had a trick coming).

When I finally finished my preparations, I sat on the couch and watched the tube for awhile, waiting for him to get there. Finally, I heard the gravel crunch in the drive way, and went to the door.

On my first impression, I felt a slight drooping of disappointment stir in my cock. Not enough to make it go down, but enough to notice. The guy was still good looking, no doubt about that. In his hay day, up to a few years ago, he was probably the big guy on campus or the major head turner when he walked into a club or bar. Now, the soft life of a software programmer combined with what I assumed to be a gross decrease in physical activity had led to a faded appearance. His hair line was slowly starting to recede, he was beginning to gain a few pounds extra, his tone was not as tight as in his pictures, but the bulk of his once extremely athletic physique was still there.

Once upon a time he would have been a 10 on a 10 scale, easily. As it was, he was still a solid 8.

I can do 8. No problemo.

I ushered him into the house and wasted no time.

5 minutes later he was naked, bright white jockstrap framing his ass (a pleasant surprise) and my Magnum clad cock was piercing his hole. I'm decently well hung, at 9" cut thick inches, and this guy didn't even hesitate. His ass slurped it up like a pro and I began to get uncharitable mental pictures of hot dogs being thrown down a hallway.

As loose as he was, there was still enough traction on the tires to get me off. So I flipped him onto his belly, and railed the fuck out of his hole. He was in for the long haul and I just enjoyed being in a partial push-up position, slamming my balls up against his ass as hard as I could. I stayed there in that position for about 25 minutes or so, arms slowly getting tired from holding myself up, when I heard a knock at the door.

What the holy fuck was that?

I told the guy to stay right where he was and got up to go to the door. I looked through the peep hole and there in his gym garb stood the Marine bottom. Unannounced and completely unwanted. Fuck.

The problem was that I'd fucked the guy often enough that he knew I was home (the fact that I didn't have a garage and my car was right out front didn't help). I wouldn't say that I panicked, but I was definitely less than pleased. PLUS I lost my hard on.

Goddammit.

I went back to the bedroom and stared at the good looking piece of ass still obediently face down, jock clad hole in the air and sighed.

Goddammit.

"Dude, I'm fucking sorry but I need you to leave. My pyscho stalker ex just got here," I lied to him, "and he's at the front door. I'm totally sorry bro. I am willing to come to you to make this up to you." Oddly enough, he was hot enough that I genuinely was willing. That, and I felt bad about booting someone out without even finishing sex.

He was pretty cool about it, and together we got the window open and his fully clothed form through. I told him to count to 100 then walk back to his car and take off.

While he was doing that, I threw on clothes, went to the front door and dragged the Marine inside.

"Dude. What the fuck are you doing here?" I demanded of him, finger jabbing into his chest.

He gave me a surprised look, saying, "Mike, you told me we were going to talk about us. About what is going to happen."

Holy shit.

I sat him down, looking at him and decided to go with the blunt approach.

"Look &*&@#* (name blotted out to protect the guilty), you're a fucking hot guy. We both know it. I love fucking you. We both know that, too. But I am not looking for a boyfriend. More than that, I do not love you. I can fuck you and be friends with you, but there is nothing more there for me than that."

He looked at me with huge, now glistening eyes (please god don't cry) and was silent for several minutes. I was starting to wonder if he was going to break down crying or go postal-nutsors on me.

Instead, he went for option C.

Without another word, he collected himself. As he stood there, shining eyes staring at me, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He walked to the door, opened it and gently closed it behind him.

I looked through the peep hole and watched him for a minute. He was in his car, head on his steering wheel, body shaking in what I assumed as sobbing.

Fuck.

I almost, ALMOST, went out to him. At that stage, however, we did NOT need to do makeup sex or my getting soft and telling him nice things that weren't really true.

I turned off my porch light, and went to take a hot shower. I always think best in a hot shower.

Eh, he'll live.

I need to call that trick back up and see when I can get my cock back into him...

~Mike
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