Watcher and the Stranger · Part 2 (2/2)
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t he was far too relaxed to move to take it off. The stranger offered his assistance, and unwrapped the towel from his host. He caught a brief but interesting view from behind as the watcher lifted himself to let the towel slide out. "One more thing," the stranger said. "I don't want to get oil all over these clothes. If you have a pair of pajamas…" He was still trying to be polite. "I don't wear them, but there are still plenty of towels."
"Thanks a lot." A few moments later, the towel-clad stranger returned to the bed. "Now, we're ready for a serious backrub." The stranger knelt again, and warmed the oil in his hands for another assault. It started at the shoulders again, just as before. Then, the stranger straddled the watcher, taking a seat on his ass. The towel prevented contact, and the watcher's shoulders were worked with such renewed vigor that he didn't mind at all. The entire back was worked again, down the the base of the spine.
As he worked the tension there, the stranger made occasional circles of the watcher's buns, moving down a little further with each pass. This was wonderful, but the stranger seemed very tentative about it, still not wishing to offend. Only once or twice was there a full encircling of his ass. It felt so good, the watcher could have had his buns rubbed all night.
After that, the stranger moved on to the tops of the legs, and again straddled his patient facing the other way. This time, the towel splayed, and the stranger's buns and balls were dropped squarely on the watcher's slippery ass. At first, the stranger rose with an "Oh!" and began to tuck the towel in. No delays, please, thought the watcher. "It's okay. Just don't stop." The stranger settled back down slowly, a little shaky, and the watcher felt the hair of his balls, and the tip of his soft cock, as he touched down. The stranger leaned forward to resume working on the legs, and couldn't help sliding around on the watcher's backside. Both parties enjoyed this but tried to keep it to themselves. But the watcher noticed that the soft cock tip could no longer be felt.
The stranger stayed put as he worked just above the knees, leaning forward. The stranger's towel fell against the watcher's oily body, and was set aside. Each time he leaned foreward, his balls pressed hard against his patient's buns. Both were now far past aroused. The watcher raised his ass slightly–_very_ slightly–to try to touch the stranger's cock. The stranger's ass then slid backwards onto the watcher's lower back; suddenly, the entire length of his cock was lodged in the watcher's split. The stranger didn't know quite what to do, but as his cock twitched and expanded, the body beneath him began to buck gently, drawing his cock deeper into the crack.
Once there, the watcher began to tilt his hips, stroking the cock above him with the crack of his ass. The stranger was still kneeling facing the watcher's feet, and he wrapped his hands around one of the watcher's legs, rubbing his face against it has he began to pump. He reached up with his hand and pushed his cock deeper into the crevice, pressing the shaft against the hole and the tip against the base of the watcher's balls when he thrusted fully forward. The watcher's rocking hips grabbed the stranger's cock, and the stranger's hand pressed harder to feel the outline of the watcher's hole. This was heaven.
"Might you," came the breathless voice of the stranger, "roll over?" The stranger lifted himself off slowly, allowing his prick to trace over the watcher's ass. He couldn't resist dropping himself down again, grinding his hips deeply, and forcefully fucking the length of the watcher's split. He rolled off, and the watcher brought himself face-up.
The stranger straddled again, this time looking in the watcher's eyes, and applied a great amount of oil to the watcher's straining cock. He smiled, and slid forward until the base of the watcher's cock was firmly in his crack, and the glistening tip showed between his balls. The stranger oiled his hands again, and started rocking. He massaged the watcher's chest, circling the nipples and surrounding the neck with his hands. As he rocked, the watcher pumped, holding tight to the stranger's arms.
The stranger leaned backwards, putting his hands near the watcher's knees, to bring more of his ass to bear on the watcher's slippery cock. The stranger couldn't move much in this position, but the watcher happily did all the work, thrusting himself up and down the split. The watcher moistened his palms with oil from his chest, and grasped the stranger's prick with both hands. The stranger's cock felt good, responding to every touch. He worked the stranger's shaft and balls deftly, both hands working while still grinding away at the stranger's ass. When a drop of jism appeared, the watcher had to have that cock in his mouth.
He pulled the stranger onto his chest, held his cock firmly in one hand, and began to lick the tip. With each circling of his tongue, the stranger's hips pushed forward. He moved back, wanting to take things at his own speed. He licked his lips and placed them, slightly parted, on the tip of the stranger's cock. He drew it into his mouth slowly, surrounding it with his lips as it entered, and pressing his tongue against the underside of the shaft. The stranger began to pump, and his lover pushed forward to meet every thrust. Every few thrusts, the watcher experimented with taking the cock deeper, noticing that the deeper he went, the more response he got.
After testing himself for a time, the watcher felt confident and swallowed the stranger's cock up to the base. The stranger stopped in full thrust, squeezing his ass tight and pushing as far forward as he could. The watcher held his cock deep for a long time, massaging the shaft with his tongue. He tickled the stranger's balls, pressing between them and working his thumb up and down the very base of his cock. The stranger drew a fast breath as his balls drew taut, and the watcher knew his lover was about to come. He wanted to watch and to feel it on his skin. He slowly withdrew the cock from his throat, and began furiously sucking and tonguing the top inch.
The stranger's moaning and breathing spun the watcher into a frenzy, and he did everything he knew how to get his guest to come.
The stranger was overwhelmed by the sensations emanating from his groin. The pleasure grew in circular waves, involving more and more of his nerves. Each move he made accentuated the feeling, and he fought to keep from coming; he didn't want this feeling to end. He felt the fluid rise from deep inside him, drawn out by the talented man sucking away at his cock. The tongue circled and darted and moved this way and that, the hand squeezed and stroked in cooperation, and another hand gently tickled the hair on his balls. Ripples moved through him as the tongue danced across the most sensitive regions of his cock.
The waves centered somewhere behind his cock and reached out to every muscle, making each one shiver with joy as it absorbed another wave. He could feel his come surging inside him, rushing to escape. He fought it, enjoying the delicious torture of holding himself on the very edge, his cock fully engorged, the liquid pushing to get out. He figured he could hold out for at least a while longer.
The stranger's balls grew tauter still, and his eyes rolled back. The watcher fixed his eyes on the tip of his lover's cock and stroked it furiously. He slid a finger between his lover's legs, between his balls and hole, and pressed and stroked the skin there. The stranger bucked, and the first hot jet spurted out and struck his lover on the chin. The second was a moment or two in coming, but was even stronger than the first. The watcher's fingers were busily massaging away, drawing the liquid from deep inside. After two long, powerful jets, the stranger's cock began pulsing more rapidly, pushing out more and more come.
White rivers ran from the stranger's pulsing purple head, down his cock, flowing over the hands and spilling onto the chest of his lover. The orgasm continued as fingers seemed to find every reserve and empty it. The pulsing subsided, leaving the watcher's chest and neck splattered with come.
The watcher caressed the legs of his lover, and played in the coating of come on his chest.
The stranger took some time to recover. He sat there, breathing and swallowing hard, for the longest time.
It was long enough that the watcher became concerned. "Are you okay?"
The stranger shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the watcher's face. His hair was matted, and beads of sweat stood as though painted onto his face and body. What a sight. "Yeah." The stranger was seriously out of breath. "Just need to catch my breath." He paused, drawing deep the musky atmosphere they had created in the room. He moved from his lover's chest and headed, still panting, toward the bathroom. The towel he pitched was gratefully received, and put to work sopping up the sweat and various other fluids. He spoke as the watcher walked toward him.
"Never did it with another guy before. I don't know what got into me." The stranger stared at himself in the mirror, drinking water from cupped hands. "I don't even want to know how many risks I just took."
The watcher wanted to be angry, but he could see the fear in the stranger's face. "It's not like that. I… I had no idea this would happen. Look, I don't go to bed with strangers, either. Strange men. Or women. Men or women… I don't… You came into my room, I _still_ don't know who you are– _I_ should be the one who's scared."
"I'm sorry–I overreacted. I thought maybe you were one of those guys who'd fuck anything that moved. But, this was, like, a big surprise to you, too?"
"Yeah. Nothing like this ever happens to me. I mean, I never took a risk before, tried something new. I just watched others indulge their hunger. Fascinating to me that they had the nerve. There's so much inside that says, "be good," and until tonight, I always let that voice prevail. Until tonight." The watcher looked down. "This is the first time I _did_ instead of watched. The first time I was involved in my own fantasy. I got so used to jerking off to someone else's script that I just took for granted I'd never experience anything that hot, that real, for myself."
"Well, then…it was good?"
"Good? Shit, are you kidding? Mister, I'll never have to rent another movie. I can just play back my memories of tonight. It was incredible; thank you."
The stranger's ego was rising, but it wasn't alone. In the bright light of the bathroom, they could see each other very clearly. The watcher was hunched close to the mirror, trying to get his friend's load out of his hair. The stranger appreciated the view, fixing his eyes on the watcher's ass. The watcher finished cleaning up, but felt the eyes on him. He stayed in that position, and even stood on his toes and leaned closer to the mirror. "Nasty boy," he thought.
The faucet handles squeaked as they turned, and soon the shower's steam began filling the room. The stranger disappeared into the stall, sliding the door shut. The watcher wanted to join, but hesitated. Their conversation left him feeling a little unsure. Then the door slid open, just a bit, and a hand appeared, motioning "come here."
The watcher stepped into the shower, to be greeted by the stranger's ass pointed right at him. The stranger stood and turned, with soap in one hand, a washcloth in another, and obviously fully recovered from their previous romp. There were no words, just a motion to turn around.
The soap needed help lathering in the thick coating of oil on the watcher's back. The washcloth found its way to skin after some effort, and the stranger stepped aside to give a rinse. He watched the soap cascade down his friend's back and ride down between his cheeks. They both closed their eyes for a moment, imagining what fate might await them in this steamy haven.
The watcher spun round to get the other side tended to. His neck and chest were washed with vigor, a rich, slippery foam left standing. The stranger arched his eyebrows for a moment, grinned, and began moving southward with the soap. The washcloth was set aside, as was the soap after the palms were sufficiently coated.
The watcher hadn't gotten off on the bed. He enjoyed his friend's ecstacy so much that it didn't matter, but now that things seemed to be starting again, he rolled his eyes back and prepared to soak up every sensation. The hands slid around his groin first, barely touching his hair. They swirled around his legs, playing up the suspense. His cock was twitching, pleading, giving out with the jism built up from their previous encounter. A hand cupped his balls from underneath as another took hold of his cock. It felt so good his knees nearly gave out. The stranger watched intently as he stroked his partner slowly, balls rolling in his hands.
The stranger moved closer, his own cock just a few inches away. The watcher reached out to touch it–the stranger motioned "no, no." The stranger reached between his partner's legs, bending down to reach his slippery hands up, past the balls, over the sensitive patch, to his friend's hole. He played there for only a moment, then slid his hands from where they were to a firm grip on the watcher's ass. He pulled, and they slapped together, their cocks standing hard, side by side. They held each other tightly, the spray bouncing off the stranger's back, hands everywhere. They began rocking their hips, rubbing against each other, feeling their nipples slide across the coarse chest hair, feeling each other's smooth pricks fuck the tiny space between them.
The watcher coated his hands with soap, and backed away a little bit. He took his own cock in hand and began to stroke, pumping into it with his hips. Just when the stranger thought he was in for a show, the watcher bound their cocks together in one hand. The stranger titled his head a little–what is this guy up to?–but soon had something else on his mind. The watcher rolled his hand, sliding the fronts of their cocks against each other, adding vertical motion with his hips. He kneaded as he gripped their cocks tightly, and circled the swollen tips with his thumb.
The pleasure produced by this was so constant that both men were dazed, grunting softly and fucking the watcher's hand. The watcher's other hand found its way to his lover's balls, and again he sought out that region that had brought forth the soaking he got earlier. The stranger retaliated, reaching around and massaging the watcher's ass. He massaged, then bent over a little for better position, soaped up one hand, and began working deeply into his lover's crack. He felt the buns squeeze together with each humping stroke, and rubbed up and down in preparation for his attack.
Nothing had slowed. The watcher continued to knead their straining cocks together, but was a little distracted by all that activity going on around back. He felt little rushes each time the fingers crossed over his hole, and he'd push instinctively. They had a fine rhythm going. A finger placed itself directly over his opening, and began to wiggle, and push gently inward. The watcher's heart raced–this new sensation was intoxicating–and tilted to offer a better angle. The finger vibrated and pushed more insistently, and finally broke through. The pressure in his cock rose substiantially. He stood on his toes and rotated his ass on the finger.
It went deeper, slowly, stroking the distance each time. The friction made his groin muscles quiver, and his cock skin stretched tighter. The stranger could feel his lover pulsing and straining against him. He stepped aside, letting the shower spray wash away the soap, and dropped to his knees. Leaving his finger in place, he surrounded the watcher's cock head with his lips. He felt the smooth skin against his tongue, the head pressing against the back of his mouth. He layed his tongue flat on the underside of the captive prick, and launched his final assault.
He let his finger stand still for a while as he slowly started gliding his tongue, front to back, side to side, on the underside of the watcher's cock. He felt the body tremble in his hands, and let the tempo rise slowly, licking faster, pressing harder. He bobbed his head, and the watcher accepted the invitation to start thrusting into his mouth. He searched for the seam between the shaft and head, and worked it with the full width of his tongue. The head grew bigger, the skin tighter, and he knew it was time. He began vibrating his finger in its channel, short, fast strokes. His lover's knees buckled and the cock came out of his mouth.
He gripped it with his free hand and milked it, still rapidly stroking the finger in the watcher's ass. He pushed downward on his finger and concentrated on the wall just inside his lover's opening, rubbing hard with the tip of his finger. He put the watcher back in his mouth.
The watcher's senses were overloaded. The tongue on his cock was working in the same areas he used to bring himself off–how did he know?–but the feeling of a finger in his ass was incredible. Each stroke sent pleasure streaming from his hole, through a channel to the base of his balls, into them, then up his cock to the head, where a tongue was working furiously. Each wave would subside, then another would come crashing in. The path was so plain he could follow it down, and the nerves in each region gave out with a different flavor of pleasure. Then there was a squeeze, a hard one, on his shaft, and his balls pulled tight.
The stroking in his ass brought fluid surging through his pipes in a rhythm. His ass pulled tight around the finger. He fought it, allowing only a dribble to escape, but then the stranger took him deep, and rammed the vibrating finger its full distance. Valves opened involuntarily, and he gushed into the stranger's mouth. The tongue stopped moving for an instant–surprise!–but then resumed. The nerves on his head were dancing as the stranger sucked hard and gripped his squirting cock firmly. He thought he might pass out as the finger and tongue coaxed load after load from his balls. The tongue slowed, the finger was withdrawn, and his vision began to return.
The stranger reared his head back to wash the come from his face, and smiled. That had to have been the warmest smile the watcher had ever seen, he thought, but remembered experiencing it before: It was exactly like the one he gave the stranger after pleasuring him on the bed.
Hugs were exchanged, and soap was again applied, but for cleaning this time. The stranger caught a glimpse of the clock as he stepped from the shower, and apologized to his host. An early-morning meeting meant he needed some sleep that night. "Damn," thought the watcher, who was counting on an opportunity to get even. The stranger dressed, hugged the watcher again, thanked him, and left.
The watcher climbed into bed, reveling in the musky smells, and propped his hands behind his head. His cock tingled against the cool sheet, and he stared at the ceiling, remembering. That was the best night of sex in his life, but it was more than that. He felt he had connected with the man, more than sexually, forming an instant friendship that was deeper than any he'd known until now. There had to be something to that.
But wait–he didn't leave his number. He said he was at the Holiday Inn, but I don't even know his name. Maybe I'm the only one who felt that connection. Maybe I'm alone in wanting to see him again. Well, shit, mister. What did you expect? Besides, the sex _was_ incredible, can't you be satisfied with that?
He couldn't. He felt strangely alone, almost abandoned. He had shared his body with this man, but, without knowing it, came to care for him. And, by all appearances, he was alone in that.
Sleep didn't come easily that night. The watcher tortured himself, imagining that he'd never see the stranger again, never know his name, never know whether he was married, or liked Christmas, or thought the Persian Gulf was justified. They made love, but they never _talked_.
The watcher buried himself in the conferences and BOFS, daydreaming through his tutorials. The tapes and VCR went back, the remaining liquor went untouched, and he spent nights watching inane TV in his room.
Wednesday's party was something he normally never missed, but he didn't feel like it tonight. But a couple of friends who arrived Wednesday morning left a message at the desk that they'd meet him in the bar before the party. He felt like a robot as he dressed and made his way to the lobby. His friends greeted him boisterously, and had a drink waiting for him at the bar.
"Look at all these people," friend #1 piped up. "Wall-to-wall nerds." His friends–maybe acquaintances–had cushy government jobs and looked down on the students and other less-affluent types that attended this show. "The nerds don't bug me," offered friend #2, who showed signs of having an early start on the evening's drinking. "It's the fucking queers. You can spot 'em, even the ones who aren't wearing the stupid T-shirts. I'm telling you, you suck one dick, and everything changes. You can tell from looking at faggot that he fucks guys. Makes me sick."
The watcher stirred his drink, lost in thought. This guy doesn't have a clue. I should tell him. I should blow this asshole's mind and tell him everything I did on Friday night. Every gory detail, down to the last squirt. I wonder if he'd…
"Hey, Larry!" The watcher knocked his glass over as he turned toward the voice. There stood the stranger, in his Sunday fines, his eyes gleaming at the sight of his friend. He came over to the bar and shook the watcher's hand with vigor. "My business called me back to California for a couple of days, but I couldn't miss the party." One corner of his mouth smiled shakily, and his eyes grew misty. "I missed you, buddy." They shook hands– with both hands–again, holding the grip for more than a cordial handshake demands.
The friends were busy playing "lookit the fags" and reassuring each other about their heterosexuality. "I could never…" "Oh, no way, me neither" "That guy over there–the one with the hair–I bet he…" "Oh, yeah, no shit. Ewww. Grosses me out, man."
The watcher and stranger listened to this banter for a while, then winked at each other and left the bar. The stranger put his arm around the watcher's waist. They looked at each other, and the watcher knew they'd be spending more time together. "Do you like Christmas?" the watcher asked as he slipped his arm around the stranger's waist.
Friend #2 came running up and grabbed the watcher by the shoulder. He took a gulp from his drink and said "You shouldn't walk around like that. I mean, I know you guys are just good friends who haven't seen each other in a while, but other people here will think…well, they'll think you're queer. There's a lot of them here, you know. Makes me sick."
"Yep," said the watcher, squeezing the stranger's waist tighter. "But you can't really spot them just by looking." "Bullshit. I've been doing it for years, man. It's easy. I've got this system, see, I look for…"
"Well, your system sucks, because you missed two right before your eyes."
Friend #2 looked around, challenged. "Where? Where??"
The watcher and stranger walked away, and the stranger tucked his hand in the watcher's pocket. They agreed, as they left, that they hoped that drink didn't spill on anyone on its way to the floor. —
Watcher and the Stranger · Part 2 (2/2)
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