As I crossed the street, I kept my eye on the young man. He was smiling very enticingly,
and I saw him slowly move the wrench he was holding to his crotch and move it up and down
against the taut material. He was long and lean, and tanned. His jeans waistband started
just below a hint of curly black pubic hair and I loved the way the line of his pelvis V’d
down to the jeans and the flatness of his belly-and the pertness of his navel. The
material was worn at his crotch, which jutted out with a promise that started my own
basket to start to swell.
The move of the wrench scratching whatever itch he had in his pelvis provided an
unmistakable message. When I reached him, I started to speak, but he turned and walked
around to the trunk of the Tempest, in the shadows from the buildings on either side of
the drive. I followed him around to the back of the car to where I faced him, very close,
but not touching. My eyes were locked on his, and the lust in his eyes was almost
electric. He sat back on the car’s trunk and, winding his left hand around the back of my
neck, he pulled my face to his. Our lips met in a lingering and tender kiss. I felt my
dick coming alive, uncoiling in my pants, pushing against the fabric. And suddenly there
was other pressure down there. The man’s right hand had found me and his fingers were
following my growing hard on from the root down to the head. I felt his intake of breath,
as he got a sense of my measure. But I knew he would be even more surprised when I was
fully engorged.
Our lips parted and he pulled his face away, looking at me imploringly. I tugged at the
net football-style T-shirt that had ended just below the bulge of his pecs, and he raised
his muscled arms, as I pulled the shirt over his head. I grabbed his left wrist and
brought his fingers to my mouth, where I, took the fingers, individually, into my mouth
and sucked on them. With his right hand, he tugged my shirt out of my trousers on both
sides and started unbuttoning my shirt. I worked my mouth down his finely muscled arm and
buried my face in the curly black hair of his armpit. He was extremely hirsute. There was
black curly hair everywhere on his body as far as I could see, but especially around his
pecs, down across his abs, and trailing down into the front of his tight jeans.
His right hand had found my nipples and was gliding across my chest from one nipple to
the other, rubbing, rolling, and gently pinching them until they stood erect under his
attention. That wasn’t the only thing that was standing erect on me now. My dick was
growing, pressing out, wanting to be free. But even more pressing was that inviting
well-muscled hairy chest that heaved below me.
I took both of my hands and pressed them to his chest. I hunted through his curly chest
hair until I had ferreted out his nipples, and then I first rubbed and then flicked his
nipples, which stood up at attention, and then I moved my fingers in swirls through his
chest hair and then down to his washboard belly. I returned to working his nipples and
chest hair with my left hand, while my right hand followed the trail of hair down beyond
his belly, across his beltless jeans, and down to where I could feel his rod pushing at
the tight jeans, getting very hard, but unable to stand up. I followed the line of his
dick down along the side of his thigh, and began to stroke, in regular downward movements.
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