In+bed+the+other+night

[atomcell]

This happened Sunday night, or I suppose early Monday morning. I wanted to capture what happened and what went through my mind. Feedback appreciated

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As we were working on each other’s cocks with frenzied pawing, my boyfriend came before me. He took control of his own shaft, coaxing out every last little ounce of pleasure and semen, while I turned toward him and chewed on his left nipple. His chest tightened and gathered into a flex as the pleasure of his release overcame him. (Nice. I love it when I feel him flex, even if it’s unintentional) His abs fired, and his upper body lurched up an inch or two. He groaned with the teasing pangs of his orgasm. 

I hadn’t come yet, since we had sucked each other off that morning and it had been a long, tiring day. At this point it was really late, and after a moment of blissful drowsiness he asked if he could go clean up. I said sure. So he stood up, his still heavy cock bobbing in front of him. The body hair on his relaxed belly and just below his chest was weighted down with his cum. He leant down and grabbed a moistened wipe from the tub in his bedside table.

I continued to stroke myself as he loomed over me, the light from the lamp on my side of the bed played over the peaks and valleys of his trim, athletic body. He brought the wipe down and swabbed his swollen member, and as he did, a low sigh of pleasure escaped him and his eyes closed. I don’t think he intended to put on a show for me, but it was turning out that way. He was facing squarely toward me and the light behind my head. I found myself wanting to demand that he turn 90 degrees to the right so I could see his still engorged penis in profile, the same time as his fine cyclist ass dimpled as it flexed a bit, keeping him upright while he handled the task of cleaning the saliva, lotion and trickle of semen off his dick.

But this was a great angle too. He moved the wipe upwards and carefully gathered the thick and musky cum off his nicely furred belly. He looked down and shifted, pushing his belly out a bit so he could see what he was doing. As his large woodworking hands moved inward, the motion drew his chest forward and it peaked nicely. I congratulated myself for getting him interested in some weight training, because his already shapely form was showing a bit of the iron he’s been lifting lately. Of course, we had a lot of potential to build him up further. 

As this thought crossed my mind, I felt my dick pulse. Not quite ready to cum, but really digging the idea of hulking up my man. He had finished cleaning the cum off his belly and grabbed another moistened wipe to swab under his balls. Then he noticed my laser-eyed focus on him. By his expression I imagined he was a little self-conscious, but a little exhibitionistic as well. He knew that I could rocket out an orgasm while staring at him. But I didn’t know if this fact emboldened him or not.

Then I understood why he hesitated. He brought the wipe back and around to his ass, and fanned his butt out so he could clean the drool and lube off his pucker and taint. This meant that his upper body bloomed before me, his chest and shoulders pushed forward and out in order to balance his ass and lower body leaning back. He braced his other hand on his thigh. It was beautiful to watch, though I understood why he felt awkward: who wanted to be stared at while wiping their ass? I was transfixed, even as the color rose a bit in his face. It was over all too quickly, and he returned to his normal stance, dropping the finished wipe into the trash.

His eyes met mine, and the question on his face was clear: Did I want him to continue standing there and tease me with his body while I rubbed one out? But it was late, so I said, “go ahead,” knowing that he wanted to head into the bathroom and finish cleaning up. I didn’t mind continuing to wank after he left the bedroom. As he turned to leave, I was gifted the exquisite view of his shapely ass, just below his gently muscled kayaker back and crowning his thick cyclist legs. (I could write an ode to the gods of weekend athleticism while massaging all the meat and flesh of his back and lower body, and hearing him groan into the pillow in relaxed pleasure. Please, go far and push hard if it brings you home with sweat slicking down the fur on your flushed skin, and if it means you’ll want a rubdown later that night).

As the mounds of his ass disappeared out the bedroom door, I clamped my eyes shut and replayed our recent exploration of each other’s bodies. Foremost in my mind was the thick and meaty shape of his cock. That flared head. That protruding channel of swollen flesh on the underside. The way he thrust his hips into my tight grip. The way his heavy balls drew in and up as he got closer and closer. The pulsing thick feel of his taint, as I fingered between his ass hole and his tightly drawn in scrotum. His hot gasping breath and ravenous kisses on my neck and throat.

I worked on myself, imagining that thick cock pushing into my ass. Remembering the feeling of many previous times where he gently but firmly loosened my resistance with progressively deeper thrusts until he eventually ground his pelvis against my tailbone. It was definitely gay, as our balls definitely slapped against each other while he rutted me.

I started to pant and go faster as I imagined  his body, as hot as it was now, with another 10, 20, 30 pounds of muscle erupting from his neck, shoulders, back, arms and, oh god, his chest. His bright blue eyes, his thick and groomed beard, his nicely symmetrical body hair, and the fruits of his labor lifting weights based on my instructions and eating the healthy and muscle growing food I made for him. But instantly, right now, bursting from within, ramming his heavy cock into my ass and crying out in orgasm as his body flared into a creation that unified the heft of his upper body with the heavy meaty size of his legs and ass, which have always been large thanks to his lifelong cycling habit. My vigorous pumping of my cock went into overdrive as my mind struggled to imagine this beautiful man I love throwing his head back and moaning as he shot hot cum into my ass and somehow gaining 2 shirt sizes over 10 seconds. The sweat glistening on his gorgeous lightly furred skin, now rippling with taut muscle that I have ached to gift him with my imagination. I want him, this variation on my dreams grafted upon the very real man in my life. What if, just imagine, if he came walking back in from the bathroom, ready for bed, standing where he was previously cleaning himself up, and struck a pose that made his already respectable lats grow and grow. Popeye arms filling out without the spinach, hulk pecs bursting without the green rage.

This last mental image set my heart thudding as my legs, butt and abs clenched and I came hard.

 I lay there, catching my breath and dozing into half sleep. I knew he’d back in a minute or two, and he’d look the way I remembered him: gorgeous and trim like an otter with a bit of a tummy, rather than my imagined otter-bull hybrid. I resolved to take the long way, coaching him into gaining that upper body heft, and asking for his support getting into the muscle bear shape I want for myself. He’d be game for both, and I love that about him.

[arpeejay]

Nice!

[atomcell]

On 7/19/2016 at 10:20 AM, arpeejay said:

Nice!

Thanks! I don't write too often, but this feeling stuck with me and I wanted to get it down "on paper".

Hope to write more, though.