he said. “I can’t get off unless someone is fucking me.”
I pulled him to me and gave him a quick, hard kiss. Then I worked up some spit and let it drip from my mouth down onto my hard cock, getting it nice and greasy for him. I sat down on a weight-lifting chair and pointed my cock straight up into the air. Getting the idea, Javier walked over to me and, still facing me, slid his fuck hole ever so slowly onto my tool, looking me right in the eye the entire time.
He clasped me to him, our hard, lean bodies bumping and grinding into one another as he started to bounce up and down on my cock. He used his legs to push himself up and down, flexing his ass muscles and squeezing my long, hard rod tighter and tighter. I used my hands to guide his hips as he gyrated on my lap, massaging my tool with the fleshy walls of his sphincter.
I licked one of my hands, then wrapped it around his cock, which I started to jack off, using my fingertips to play gently with the sensitive pink tip of it. He was groaning with pleasure and stood up a little. I started shoving my cock up into him with abandon, fucking him harder and harder as I jerked his tool faster and faster. I could feel his prostate start to twitch, his balls pulled up close to his body, and his asshole constricted around my cock. Without warning, his cock started to spew jets of cum everywhere, one of them even landing on my chin, about two feet straight up from the tip of his cock. Some of his cum stayed inside his foreskin, and I used its sticky slickness to massage the head until he was completely spent.
Then, still holding myself in him, I stood up and started to pump his ass harder and harder as I supported his weight. He was moaning and seemed only half conscious, his eyelids fluttering over half-closed eyes, but he didn’t stop me, so I fucked him like that and I kept fucking him until I was ready to shoot again. Then I pulled my cock out of him, and it made a little pop as the head cleared his rosebud. I sat him down on the workout bench and jerked my cock until I was ready to come again.
I thought I had shot every last drop of cum in my body when he had been sucking me off, but I was wrong. A huge load of sperm worked its way up from my balls and surged down the length of my shaft until it exploded from my dick hole and drenched Javier’s rippling chest in jizz. It mingled with his sweat and ran in little currents along the cum gutters formed by his abs.
When I had milked every drop out, I knelt down in front of him and said, “Gracias, amigo,” with a smile.
“Por nada,” he said, returning my smile.
He pulled me into a kiss and we stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the pleasure of each other’s company as we tenderly made out.
I was the first one to stop, saying, “Shouldn’t we close up for the night?”
“Yes, I told Jose I would do it.”
“Okay, it’s getting late, and it’s so hot in here.”
“It’s hot everywhere—it’s summer and it’s Puerto Rico.”
“I know, but it’s not the weather I was talking about.”
He laughed a little at that, and we both started pulling on our clothes. I waited for him to turn out the lights, and walked out with him as he locked the door behind him. We stood for a second outside in the hot, humid night, still sweating as we pulled close to one another. I kissed him full on the lips and said, “So, I guess I’ll see you around?”
He laughed again and said, “Of course, now that I have a workout buddy, I plan to come to the gym every night.”
Americans in Paris
Some of the most delicious encounters are the ones you don’t expect. Whether it is because you wander out alone for an evening and end up making new friends. Or perhaps you go to a party and spend the whole night talking to the cute shy guy in the corner. Or sometimes, it is because you are thousands of miles from home feeling like you don’t have a friend in the world, trying to experience new things and yet craving the familiar. I find that it sometimes takes leaving your comfort zone…and traveling a few time zones away…to find something extraordinary like a new food, or a tiny hidden museum, or new friends with perspectives extremely different from your own. Sometimes it takes going far away to appreciate what has been right in front of you as well.
The first time I really felt the confluence of those ideas was the summer after my freshman year of college. After spending a whole year away from home—experimenting with new classes, new friends and new sexual partners—I felt like I was ready to conquer the world. So I decided to try spending the summer in Paris, working at a little publishing house.
I dreamed of my summer life as a bohemian fantasy. I’d get up every morning and have an espresso at a streetside café. Then I’d stroll past produce vendors and bookstores to the little office next to the Luxembourg Gardens. Maybe if I was feeling lazy from staying up too late the night before reading Proust or debating Baudelaire with my new French friends at the corner brasserie, I’d take the humid Metro the five stops from my top-floor garret in the Latin Quarter to the office. It was going to be heavenly.
That summer turned out to be a little different than I expected—to say the least. It’s true, I often strolled to work past idyllic Parisian scenes. But the human interaction I had so craved was lacking those first few weeks. Instead of sparring with my new French friends, most evenings would find me cooking a modest dinner in my tiny studio, or reading poetry as I waited for my clothes to dry at the corner Laundromat. I wasn’t making as many friends as I’d hoped, and so, out of desperation, I visited my college Web site and found out that another student was spending the summer living a few blocks away from me along the Seine. His name was Peter, and he was a year older than me.
With nothing to lose, I sent Peter an e-mail the next morning from work, and spent a busy day at the office writing reviews and making calls. By the time I had a chance to check my school e-mail again, it was the end of the day. I held my breath as my in-box loaded, and I found an e-mail from Peter waiting for me.
After opening it up, I read that he had been in Paris for a few weeks like me, and outside of work, he hadn’t made too many friends yet, either. He didn’t speak French well, and he hoped we could get together so I could help him with it. I smiled and wrote back that that would be great. I asked if he’d like to come over to my apartment for a drink that Friday evening and we could have dinner after. I left the office that evening smiling for the first time in weeks, and stopped at a wine shop on the way home to pick up a nice bottle to share with Peter.
When Friday evening rolled around, a heat wave had hit the city. The only relief I found was in the air-conditioned office, but soon it was time to go home and meet Peter. I lethargically climbed the seven stories to my rooftop garret and turned on the little electric fan in a vain attempt to circulate the broiling air to a more comfortable degree. I changed into shorts and a tank top and gulped down a bottle of cold water from my tiny fridge.
Just as the sun was setting, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a living, breathing heartthrob standing in the dark hallway. It was Peter. I half-recognized him from some fraternity parties I’d been to. He was a jock on the swim team, and girls were always hanging off him. I couldn’t blame them, either, because he was gorgeous. Tall and lean, he had the perfect swimmer’s physique, with muscles that stood tautly at attention but didn’t overwhelm you. His long, straight, blond hair was the color of hay, and he had soft, baby-blue eyes that mirrored the grin on his lips. He was wearing a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops.
“Hey!” I said, a little too excited. “I’m Brad, nice to meet you.”
He shook my hand and replied, “Hey, I’m Peter. I thought I recognized you. I’ve seen you at some of the parties, right?”
“Yeah, I go out every now and then.”
“You’re a really good dancer. I’ve watched you,” he told me, smiling.
“You…you have?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah, you gotta show me some of your moves!”
“Oh, come in, come in, have a glass of wine,”