Frog

This is a fictional story in which sexual activity between consenting adult males is depicted; it is no way based on true events or the sexuality of any of the persons mentioned. Part 1 I’d been mates with James for a couple of years and over that time we’d got to know each other pretty well. He’s a couple of years younger than me, good looking, in great shape and straight. Every so often, we’d grab a beer and catch up and every time we met up, we always managed to connect on a pretty deep level. As far as I knew, were always honest and upfront with one another about what was going on in our lives and pretty much covered it all work, sport, cycling, sex – nothing was really off limits, and we always had a laugh. Although we’re both married, I don’t think James had any idea that he made me hard whenever I thought about him. Ever since that night at the pub that I’d caught a glimpse of his massive cock at the urinal, he’d been the fuel for many of my wank sessions. I could never see it happening in reality but that certainly didn’t stop me creating wild and passionate scenarios in my head, all of which involved that dick of his in some part of me – my mouth, my hole, wherever I could fit it. It had been a few weeks since we’d hung out when I got a message from him asking me if I wanted to catch up later that week as his wife was going to be away for a couple of nights and he was going to be home alone and wanted to hang out. Of course, I was more than up for going, and so we arranged for me to meet him at his place at 8pm on Friday, just after he got home from his shift at the hospital. Beers in hand, I arrived at his flat right on time, but after a few minutes there was still no answer. I’d definitely got the right day and time and so was just about to text him when he pulled up on his bike, sweating like a dog, head to toe in Lycra. He apologised profusely, sweat literally dripping from his face, legs and torso, as he brushed his body past me and led the way into his flat. He’s a good-looking lad, clear blue eyes, around 6’, probably 85kg and finely toned but not in a bulky way. And with all that cycling his legs, thighs & calves are divine. I followed him in, my dick starting to stir at the sight of his tight butt cheeks bouncing ahead of me. ‘So sorry about that mate,’ he said hanging his bike on its wall frame. ‘Got stuck at work and even though I caned it back just couldn’t make up the time. You been waiting long?’ Although I kind of heard him talking, to be honest, I was just a bit lost letting my eyes feast on every ridge and bulge highlighted by his blue cycling gear. All I can say is, ‘Damn, he looks fine!’ He took off his helmet and kicked off his clipless shoes and padded towards me, sweat still dripping, before offering me a drink. ‘I’d better get cleaned up. Mind if I just jump in the shower quickly? I am so sweaty.’ Heading into the kitchen to grab a beer gave me the chance to rearrange the now prominent bulge in my jeans and to take a long, lingering leer over every inch of his fine frame. I guess I may have lingered just longer than I realised, as his eyes caught mine while I was transfixed by his bulge. I kind of quickly looked away but realised if he’d noticed he didn’t seem too phased. In fact, he headed over in my direction to get a glass of water and I’m pretty sure he briefly grabbed his junk. Moving back past me, he stood in the doorway facing straight at me, with every inch on full display. He held my gaze for a good few seconds and it was almost like he was willing me to look him up and down. He leant his elbow on the frame of the door and with his other hand wiped the sweat from under his bare armpit before wiping over his abs and down over his groin. And now it wasn’t just my stare that was hard. ‘OK!’ he said finishing off his water. ‘I need a shower. Why don’t you bring your beer and come and talk to me while I freshen up?’ And with that he turned away. Grabbing the bottle I quickly followed him into the bedroom, where he was already in the ensuite turning on the shower. He came back into the room, the top of his cycling bib rolled down to his hips, a very thin line of fine, dark pubes just about showing. He moved over to the unmade bed and pushed a pile of clothes on the floor before saying, ‘Sorry it’s such a mess. Had to leave in a hurry this morning and didn’t have time to clear up. Just make a space on the bed and I’ll be out in 2 secs.’ I sat myself down on the open sheets and as he walked away back into the bathroom, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the thin Lycra shorts and in one motion pulled them down round his ankles and, stepping out of them, left them in a pile on the floor. I had no idea where to focus my gaze. On his perfect arse as he bent down? On his thick hairy legs? Or on what I’m sure was a glimpse of his sack hanging low between his legs? I did my best to take it all in, but my head was spinning. Here I was in James’ bedroom, sitting on his unmade bed, while he’s a few feet away stark naked in the shower and I’m just inches away from the Lycra that’s been holding his sweaty cock & balls. He'd left the shower door half open, and I could hear the water running against his body as he showered so I knew I had a few minutes. The first thing I did was to grab his cycling shorts and put them to my face. The scent of his sweat was intoxicating and caused my breath to falter. Whether it was sweat, piss, pre-cum, or all three I had no idea. All I knew was that it smelt divine, and my cock was begging for it. I quickly unzipped my jeans and pulled out my thick 8” cock and covered the head, leaking pre-cum like mad, with his warm, damp shorts. Much as I wanted to cum right there and then, I knew I couldn’t and so would have to be satisfied knowing that my cock and cum was mixing with where his cock and sweat and pre-cum had been just moments before. Leaning back on the bed to enjoy the moment, I reached my hand under the pillow to prop up my head and came across a t-shirt. I assumed it was just what he wore to bed and having something else that might carry more of his scent needed investigating. I held up the black Calvin Klein shirt so I could bury my face in the armpits, while his shorts got soaked by my free-flowing pre-cum. The first thing I noticed was the unmistakable look and feel of dried cum. This wasn’t just a T Shirt, this was his cum-shirt. The front of it literally covered with dried light stains mostly around the middle but right up across the shoulders as well. Checking the shower was still going, I stuffed the most cum-stained section right to the back of my throat and wetting it with my saliva, got his old cum stains freshened till I could taste his stale, salty jizz. I wanted to cum so badly and, lost as I was in the wonder of the moment, realised that he was going to be out of the shower any second now and so, very reluctantly, pushed the now wet shirt under the pillow and threw the shorts back over by the door. I had to undo my jeans to get my dick back under control and I’d just zipped up when the water stopped and James shouted out, ‘How you doing in there? Everything OK?’ Little did he know that I’d just lived out the fantasy of my life in those past couple of minutes. Little did I know that we weren’t done yet. Stepping out of the bathroom, James came into the bedroom soaking wet with a towel just about wrapped round his waist. He looked even better fresh from the shower. His hair tousled and wet, water running down his face and perfectly trimmed beard and down onto his chest. His upper body is just how I like it. Not too thick set but toned and fit with a light dusting of chest hair but a dark, thick treasure trail, running down his abs and disappearing beneath the towel to the promising bulge below. I knew I was staring again, and I think he knew I was staring, because he hadn’t moved. He was just standing there. Soaking wet, in a towel, looking at me, looking at him. A wet, naked man in a towel and a fully clothed man, with a pretty obvious hard on, lying stretched out on his bed. And both of them have all the time in the world. ‘I should probably get dressed,’ he said without taking his eyes off of me. ‘Yeah! Probably,’ I said slowly, without taking my eyes off of him. And with that he took the towel from around his waist and started to dry his hair. With his head and face covered by the towel, the rest of him was on full display right in front of me in all its splendour. I’d seen his dick before at the urinal and knew it was an impressive piece of kit, but there’s no way I was ready for the magnificence of this glorious thing of beauty. At least 5 inches soft, thick, uncut with low hanging balls, perfectly trimmed pubes and, unless I was much mistaken, a heavy, glistening drop of pre-cum just hanging from the folds of his foreskin. Letting the towel drop to the floor James walked over to the bed, his dick swinging from side to side as he moved and stood next to where I was lying. ‘Think I might air dry if that’s OK?’ ‘Sure,’ I said, trying to sound relaxed. ‘In fact, I might just stretch out here if that’s OK?’ ‘Yeah, go for it’ And with that he stretched out next to me on the bed. Naked. James lay on his back for a couple of minutes staring at the ceiling and then said, ‘You know I usually have a wank after I’ve had a shower’. And with that I noticed his right arm drop to his side and his hand gently shift his heavy cock from where it was lying across the top of his thigh. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’ ‘You sure?’ ‘Very,’ I said. And with both of us looking up at the ceiling, I began to feel the slow but firm rhythmic motion of James getting his fine cock-meat hard. To be continued…

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