MEN, MUSCLE, and MAYHEM (5 page)

We laughed, and I said my goodbyes.

It was a few weeks before I saw him again. I go to the gym very early and am usually out the door around a quarter to five in the morning. I ran into him one morning as he was headed to his gym, and we exchanged pleasantries, and this became an occasional occurrence. Although beautiful to behold, I made up my mind after meeting his fiancé that he was off limits, and I was never into “flipping” guys anyway. I am too old to go around blowing straight guys, besides I never saw the thrill in that. I never said it out loud, but anyone can figure out I am a big fag from the rainbow Mezuzah on my door frame to the rainbow Star of David tattoo on my shoulder to the parade of flaming queens, who are my friends, who would drop by for dinner. Besides a fifty-year-old personal trainer/competitive bodybuilder is a dead giveaway.

One morning as I headed out my door to the gym, I saw a shirtless body walk by and noticed it was Matt. He was wearing very short, gray running shorts that were not unlike the ones President Clinton would wear early in his administration. I yelled at his back, “It is freezing outside. I just came back from walking Lucille.”

He stopped and turned around, and I saw his bare torso for the first time. He didn’t shave and had the perfect amount of dark hair and that theory about him having the most fit body I ever saw was confirmed. I immediately thought that if this guy has a big dick there is
no
God.

“They say it’s seventy outside.” He smiled that beautiful smile as I said this.

I walked up to him and got a better look and thanked myself for putting on a tight jock that morning. (I said I was not into flipping straight guys, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t turn me on.)

We walked over to the elevator and stepped in.

He hit the L and asked if I had an early client.

“No, just working out this morning,” I answered.

“Cool, we should work out together sometime,” he said.

And then, my odd sense of humor took over when I asked, “Can I pull one of your nipples?”

He looked right at me, smiled and said, “I wish you would.”

And, I did. And he leaned in and planted his mouth on mine while simultaneously hitting the red button, stopping the elevator between floors. His tongue was down my throat before I could protest, and I decided not to protest and felt up that perfect body.

I finally came up for air and with a gasp asked, “What about your fiancé?”

“We’re both bi,” he said and proceeded to remove my shirt and pull down my shorts.

In the time it took for me to fully comprehend what he said, my jock was around my ankles, and my dick was in his mouth. He had pulled his shorts down and was stroking his cock while working mine, and I figured we didn’t have a lot of time, and he figured we didn’t have a lot of time, and he sucked me for points and knew I would blow any minute, and I tried to get him off my dick, so I could get at his, but he was insistent, and I just shot my load, and he swallowed every drop while jerking his and shooting between my legs and hitting the wall of the elevator. It all happened so fast, that I was still comprehending what happened when he stood up, pulled up his shorts, and I retrieved my shirt, jock and shorts, and he hit the button, and we stepped out of the elevator.

“Have a good run,” I said as he took off.

A few weeks later, his fiancé went to visit her parents, and he came over, and we did it again. This time, however, we took our time. He has since married Gina, and their wedding was beautiful. And on occasion, he stops by for a little pre-run work out.

CLOTHING OPTIONAL

After a seven-hour drive through rural southwestern Virginia, a few miles across the Tennessee line, and down a very dusty country road, I arrived at the TimberBear Campground. I had read about it online and decided to try a different kind of vacation, but after being buzzed through the gate, if you want to call it a gate, and driving up to the main cabin, if you want to call it a cabin, I was beginning to rethink my idea of an alternative getaway.

Between the geezer who checked me in and the one who pointed out my cabin, there were a total of seven teeth. I drove down the hill to the far side of the grounds past what I assumed was the pool and bath house, a couple of campers and trailers, and spotted little duplex-like cabins lined up in a row. Mine was number 6–6B to be exact since it was a duplex of sorts.

It may have been late September, but the weather begged to differ, with temperatures in the nineties and not a cloud in sight. I heard they were suffering through a drought, and by the looks of the layer of dust on my 1975 AMC Matador Coupe, they weren’t kidding.

What I didn’t see were very many people. I guessed it was late in the season, which was fine, since I am not fond of crowds. I parked around back and unpacked my car. Being this was a clothing optional campground, I didn’t have to pack a hundred outfits for a change the way I did for that miserable cruise my best friend talked me into taking.

“Nice ride,” came a voice from behind me.

“Thanks.”

“1974?”

I turned to face what appeared to be a post-op FTM transsexual wearing only cut-off shorts. “1975 AMC Matador Coupe Barcelona Edition … it was my grandmother’s.”

He walked over to my car, and I hastily walked around front to 6B, opened the door and took in the décor. ‘Early trailer park’ would best describe the room, for the cabin was just that, a room. There was a bathroom with a shower stall, and that was about it.

I unpacked what few things I had with me then changed into my swim trunks to take in what little daylight was left in the afternoon. I don’t know why I put on my swim trunks since they would be coming off as soon as I arrived at the pool.

I am a former powerlifter and have continued to work out hard since ending my competition days in the late 80s, which enables me to maintain my thickly muscled physique. I am not what you would call bodybuilder cut, but at five-eleven and over 270 pounds, I am a lot of man, and I have a pretty thick cock and big balls that swing nicely if I do say so myself. I am not self- conscious about my body, but I am aware that there are those with a lot more ‘definition’ and much prettier faces. The best way to describe my face is that it is that of a bouncer, which is what I do for a living, and my nose has taken its share of punishment as well as my jaw. I get my share of ass when I want it, but I have found that as I grow older and especially after ‘a certain age,’ I don’t crave it as much as I used to. I figure I have done all I care to do in bed, so if I find myself rolling around naked with someone, it better be special.

I chose an empty chaise at the pool, which wasn’t difficult since there were about four people there, and took off my trunks, lay down and took in what sun was left for the day.

I was bored already.

After what seemed hours, but was only about thirty minutes, I gathered my things and made my way back to my cabin.

I was kind of tired from the drive and having put in a long shift the night before, so I took a shower in the tiny stall and decided to take a nap.

I never realize how tired I was. When I opened my eyes, it was pitch black in the cabin, and the clock next to the bed indicated it was 2:11 – AM! I hadn’t slept like that in years. I was sprawled out naked on top of the bed and sporting an erection that could hammer nails.

I got out of bed and looked out the window. There was no one around or lights on, so I opened the door and stepped outside, stark naked and still pretty hard. I stretched my arms and let out a big yawn, when I heard, “Hello.” I just about jumped out of my skin.

I had a neighbor in my duplex. Standing at just over six feet, he wasn’t a bad looking one either. He was around my age, bald, with a mustache, a nice muscular hairy chest – and everything else – and wearing boxer briefs. I immediately hid my cock with my hand.

“Hey, sorry about that ... I didn’t think anyone would be out here.”

“No problem,” he replied then he turned his attention back to his cell phone. “I can’t get any bars.”

“Isn’t it late to be making calls?” I asked while still standing there willing my dick to go down, which it eventually did.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of our office overseas all day. Ahh fuck it,” he said, then flipped his phone shut. “I guess I should just go to sleep.”

“I just woke up from a nine-hour nap,” I said with a laugh. “I think I’ll see if the pool is open all night.”

“The pool is closed, but the steam room and sauna are open all night. They’re in the bath house right next to it,” he said, obviously having visited here before.

“Thanks, either one sounds good right now.”

He went back into his cabin, and I into mine. I brushed my teeth to get rid of the dead rat taste and hoped my breath didn’t offend my neighbor. I grabbed two towels – one to sit on in the sauna or steam room and one to dry off with. I didn’t bother putting on a pair of shorts and just wrapped a towel around my waist, and slipped on my flip-flops, grabbed a jug of water, then stepped out.

The steam room looked as if a sloppy orgy was played out just hours before, so I chose the sauna. After figuring out how to switch it on, filling the bucket with water to pour over the coals, I hung one towel on a hook outside the door, and slipped off the towel around my waist and laid it on the bench, sat down, leaned back, closed my eyes and relaxed.

I started to sweat almost immediately and took a healthy swig from the jug of water. I then wiped the sweat from my chest down my stomach and along my cock, which started getting hard again. I didn’t care, figuring no one was going to come in at this hour, and if they did, whatever.

Wiping sweat across my cock turned into gentle stroking until it was standing right up again ready to do some carpentry work. I closed my eyes and continued gently stroking my dick.

I was starting to feel pretty relaxed and a bit horny when the door to the sauna opened. I opened my eyes and saw that my cabin mate had entered, and this time he wasn’t wearing the boxer briefs.

He walked right over to me without saying a word, leaned down and planted his mouth on mine. We proceeded to make out and wrestle our tongues, while he reached down and grabbed my dick, and I switched my hand from my dick to his, which was also ready to hammer a few nails and had the heft to do so.

The guy was a great kisser, and he apparently thought I was to, which I am of course, but his moans didn’t hurt my ego. When his mouth left mine, I missed it immediately, until he hopped up on the bench with his feet on either side of me, his hands on the wall behind me, and his huge cock pointed at my face.

I opened my mouth, let him shove it in, and grabbed his balls. He fucked my throat like a champ, and I didn’t gag at all. When I could feel he was getting close, he increased his rhythm, then pulled out and shot a big load all over my face while I held onto his balls.

When he was drained, he hopped down from the bench, got down on his knees and swallowed my cock. It only took a few seconds for him to empty my balls into his hungry mouth. He then stood up, leaned in and licked my face clean before planting his mouth on mine again as we tasted our comingled loads in his mouth.

He then winked, turned around and left.

I never saw him again.

A MARRIED MAN

I should know better. He’s married with kids. He has one car he shares with his wife. He can only stop by for twenty minutes and with only ten minutes notice.

I get a text. “What’s up?”

I answer, “My cock.”

Same crap every time. He isn’t even that good-looking. I mean, he works out and all, but his body is nothing worth writing home to Mom about. If I did write home to Mom, the only thing I could say is he’s Jewish. “Oh, and by the way, he’s married, too, and on the down-low.”

Good thing my mother is dead. This would kill her for sure. I can hear her now. “What? There are no nice Jewish unmarried boys? You have to go after a closet case?”

Strangely, I met him on a sex line. Or maybe not so strangely. Where else would he go for sex? Synagogue? Please.

I remember that first meeting. No head shot, just a body shot. I remember seeing his face for the first time. Ugly is the best way to describe it. He was bald with a big nose and squinty eyes. I let him in anyway. I guess I am just a pig for sex. I could do better, not a lot better, but certainly better than this troll. His dick wasn’t that big, but the cock-ring didn’t hurt.

I wondered when he put that on. Did his wife see him in it?

However, the sex was pretty good. It wasn’t the best, but it was worth a repeat. But, a repeat was next to impossible.

I’d text him, and he’d say he couldn’t get away. Or worse, he was headed to a “buddy’s” house for a three-way. He thought it was cool to tell me that. The man was a bigger slut than I – and an asshole to boot.

So, why do I continue to stay in touch? I actually erased his number from my phone, only to have him text me for a hook-up out of the blue. And, twice he would contact me, get me all horned up, only to cancel at the last minute because he was dealing with his daughter’s teenage drama of some sort.

Yet, here I sit.

It’s Sunday afternoon. I should go to the gym, take a nap, read a book, do something constructive. But, he texted me. Now, I am hard as a rock. I don’t know why. As I said, he’s ugly, he’s married, and more importantly, he’s selfish.

There is no future with this guy. He isn’t going to leave his wife. And, he certainly isn’t going to leave her for me. I know that. I am not as dumb as I look.

We have already texted at least ten times. Now, he is having trouble finding an excuse to leave the house with their only car. He asks me for an excuse. What the fuck do I know? I am not married, and I haven’t been in the closet since kindergarten. If I want to get laid, I just get in my car and go.

Four hours have gone by, and I have wasted an entire afternoon. It is near dinner time. I have to work tomorrow. I am past my need for dick now. I keep giving him fifteen more minutes before I start making dinner and forget about the whole thing.