An Attorney Takes A Break With A Construction Worker

Author's note:

This is my first posting on GayDemon of any of the reminiscences that involve my husband. I posted the stories of our meeting, whirlwind coupling and marriage on another site three years ago (menonthenet) but then switched to GayDemon and began to indulge my desire to try fiction as well as some pre-husband reminiscences about my time posted at Kaneohe. Our good friend and inspiration, Chad, recently shared a story of his own, and after my husband and I had our first round of fun after reading Chad's hot recount, my husband told me about a time, before me, when he, too, succumbed to the sexual charms of a hot construction worker. So, since I've indulged in fiction since becoming a devotee of GayDemon, and since I've bored you with many installments of my own sexploits while I was stationed in Hawaii, I thought: why not write my husband's story he'd told me as if he were writing it? So . . . here goes nothing.

* * * * * An Attorney Takes A Break With A Construction Hunk * * * * *
- as told by Jim to BillyC husband to husband about his past. Jim's memory of this was prodded and inspired by the hot sexploits of our sexy friend, Chad; thus I came (pun intended) to retell this story to you myself

I was in Atlanta, working with a client on prep for a big case, working my ass off, barely scraping time to take out my frustrations in the gym every day - that was probably what kept me sane, but it did nothing to assuage my sexual frustrations, just my frustrations with my client and occasionally with my team of lawyers working for me on the case. I'm sure nobody else has ever been frustrated by a client or by a lawyer! LOL To put it in perspective, it had been nearly two weeks of this, at their offices closeted in war rooms, wading through data and interview transcripts . . . and we were all frustrated with the scant level of documentation for what should have been an easy-win case, mega-millions dependent on that win.

As was common, I knocked off after midnight, having given my staff and my clients who were working with them a half-hearted but convincing pep talk. I stopped by the office I was using and locked up my laptop and momentarily considered the gym bag I'd handed off to a secretary when I'd re-entered the main war room around six that morning. Should I or shouldn't I? Well, I should, for a number of reasons, obviously. Being a gay man of forty isn't nearly as easy as being a gay man of thirty, and that wasn't easy then! Maintaining a highly-fuckable body takes exponentially more effort as the years pass. And as a highly-sexual - some would say cock-addicted - gay male, the maintenance was essential for that reason alone, notwithstanding the general health benefits of a lean, healthy body. As was my habit the moment of indecision was just that - a moment. I grabbed the gym bag and my suit coat and keys and headed out decisively, with the only hesitation in my mind a nagging background thought about the growing dark circles under my eyes. I'd sleep when I was dead, but . . . well, for now I'd rely on my chiseled bod and particularly my - if I do say so myself - HOT ass to generate the cock-appeal I relied on, and my dark circles would just have to be overlooked!

My client's building had an exceptionally upscale gym on the ground floor, and it was open 24/7. I'd used it many times near or after midnight already, particularly in the past four or five days, when my early-morning regimen had given way to mitigation of my sleep deprivation, and getting up at four was just not an option.

I must have been more tired that I realized because the elevator went nowhere for some time before I realized I hadn't punched a floor button. When it finally did move - after I finally snapped out of it and gave the panel a half-hearted jab - it stopped two floors down. Oh, great, I thought - a local, at this hour of the night/morning?

The doors opened, and I stepped back against the back wall of the elevator car reflexively, as one does. But the sight of the man who to get on the elevator caused me to step back awkwardly, hooking my heel on the baseboard of the elevator wall and almost stumbling over. A rush of movement and strong hands steadied me.

"Easy there," a deep, almost husky voice said. The heat radiating through big, strong hands, one through my suit coat on my left bicep and the other closer, through my fine cotton shirt, around my right oblique, made me shudder. "You okay there?" he asked.

The third thing I noticed about this hot stranger was a very appealing all-day-honest-sweat male aroma, which if I hadn't already almost lost my balance would have had my head spinning anyway. The first had been his appearance. Tall, and for me to say tall means something, since I'm six-five - nearly as tall as I am. Plain white t-shirt, dirty in an amazingly sexy way, stretched across a muscular upper body that made my balls ache. Dirty, faded jeans, loose at his narrow waist with no belt, tight at his quads and perfectly outlining his long legs. And a bulge of epic proportion, the area well-worn, threadbare and promising. Blond, blue-eyed, magnificent, hairy arms hanging from soccer-ball shoulder caps. And a heavy blond five-o'clock shadow that evidenced his long day.

I was looking right into his eyes when I opened mine again - my eyes had rolled back in my head at his touch . . . and my cock was almost fully hard, painfully inside my boxer briefs in my well-tailored suit slacks. "I, uh," I stammered, unable to put words together, inhaling him, refueling my head reeling and my blood pumping out of it down to my cock.

"Long day too, obviously," he observed.

The door opened on the ground floor to us standing that way - him holding me, our bodies almost touching. He made no move to jump back for fear of what any other male might perceive. My mind cha-chinged its gaydar GAY chime, and I almost involuntarily fist-pumped. 

Apparently I'd smiled broadly because he smiled too and said, "Well, looks like you've got some life in you yet." He made no move to step back or release his old on me, though.

We stood there like that long enough that the elevator door closed again. I grinned at him. "We should probably . . . "

He filled the gap. "I know what I think we should probably do," he grinned back at me. I took a leap and reached out and took hold of him by his massive bulge, confirming that it was more massive than it had been when I'd first seen him through the opening elevator doors. His eyes closed and his head moved back just a bit as he moaned a deep sigh. "MMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

"My hotel is in the complex," I told him.

He opened his eyes and stared hard enough at me that I almost thought I'd played it wrong. Then he let his left hand slowly descending from my oblique and around to my ass, which he rubbed over and cupped very gently at first then very firmly grabbed it. "If you're offering . . . " he almost groaned, his eyes so intense I couldn't wait to see how they looked when he was pounding me into the mattress. We didn't actually make it to the mattress for quite a while.

When we got inside the door of my suite - the client's relationship and rate with the hotel afforded my and my team all great comforts during our stay for an obscenely low rate, one Priceline would beg to offer to its clients - he whistled. I'd found out his name was Clint. "I should have known when I saw your fancy suit you'd have a spread like this!"

"And I'd have thought the only SPREAD you'd be interested would be the spread of my legs!" I shot back.

Clint whirled around to face me. "Hey, Jim, I didn't mean anything by it," he said, taking a step in, his hand out in a gesture of peace . . . which became a gesture of desire when he reached into the waist of my slacks and pulled me into him so we were face to face. Again the rush of his maleness overtook me, and my knees weakened . . . or was that my legs wanting to raise to admit him? "Mmmmmmmm," he moaned at me, grinning. "Let's try this again, why don't we? NICE digs. I'm going to enjoy fucking your brains out in here!"

"Ohfuck," escaped my mouth before I could think.

Clint threw his head back and guffawed, then came back to my gaze, now intense, just like that. "I should probably take a quick shower if you don't mind," he said steadily, his hand still resting inside my waistline.

I saw him react to my look of outrage before I spoke. "The FUCK you will! You'll fuck me and let me enjoy every smell and taste of you just how you are!" I decreed. And then I leaned in to him and inhaled him at the base of his neck, his sweaty male aroma causing me once again to nearly swoon. Then I licked slowly from the edge of his t-shirt neckline, over the blond chest hairs slightly emerging there, up along his neck and to just behind his ear, savoring the salty maleness of his taste.

"Ffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkk!" he growled, clutching me forward from his grip on my pants waist, grinding our crotches together.

He was rock-hard inside those almost-worn-through jeans. And he was big. Goddamn I didn't give a fuck about the lateness of the hour, the workout I was missing and the few hours of sleep I'd not be getting. All I cared about was this hot hunk of maleness fucking me so long and so hard that I'd feel it for days afterward.

"God you have to fuck me!" I panted, my head lolling forward involuntarily.

Clint misinterpreted my loss of control of my neck muscles and reached his other paw around my neck, tilted my head back and KISSED me. I hadn't expected a horny studmale like him to kiss me . . . but I couldn't have been more wrong because he devoured me and ignited every nerve in my body. Our tongues dueled, our mouths sucked and jockeyed for position and all the while we ground into each other, now holding each other desperately in a clinch of gropes and grabs.

Suddenly, after what seemed like minutes sucking face and humping into each other, Clint roughly shoved me back and growled. I would have gone down onto my back on the tiles of the suite's entry if he hadn't reached out and clasped his big paw in my arm tight enough to grip me through the slide of slick cotton from my shirt, even slicker lining from my suit and the silk-and-wool blend of the coat. "Shit!" he panted. "I'm . . . so fucking . . . close," he struggled to get out.

That was all I needed to hear. I was on my knees and ripping open his jeans before he could finish gasping at my sudden move. I roughly yanked them and his jock strap down to free a huge, amazing, uncut cock. And when I say free, it burst forth, smacking my cheekbone HARD, and literally splattered precum into my eye and across my face. The smell of him was overwhelmingly inviting - a long day of honest labor had brought forth musk and sweat and pungency that I knew came from a ripe but not cheesy head under that magnificent foreskin. And as I grabbed his nearly nine-inch cum-pole with one hand and experienced a jolt from my hand to each of my own nuts from the feel of his protruding veins and pulsating throbs, I also couldn't resist grabbing his enormous, hairy nuts with my other.

"OHGODJIM!" He exclaimed as I opened wide to accommodate his broadly-flared, peach-sized head. It was a THICK monster, but goddammit I'd tackled as big before. And who cared if I could talk after I forced that down into my throat?

Gripping his nuts harder and pulling him into me deeper caused his big hands to clamp on my shoulders hard for balance as he howled out a moaning growl that would probably being hotel security. I didn't care and began massaging his monster-nuts as I forced his cockhead past my throat opening and the thudded my nose into his pubes when it cleared.

"OHHOLYFUCKINGCHRIST!" He cried, bringing his hands unnecessarily to clamp on my head. Unnecessary because my throat was so stretched and full I had the fleeting thought that I'd never get that head flange back out again. "DC LAWYER SURGICALLY REMOVED FROM HUNK'S COCK - POST-MORTEM" would be the headline, and I briefly thought of my teenaged son and my parents.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he growled above me and bucked into me, almost knocking my neck out of whack. Clint wasn't kidding about being close. He blasted just that fast. And he blasted so long and so hard that my head was spinning from exhausting my oxygen by the time he and I got is even-thicker-than-before head up through my throat's opening and into my mouth.

I threw myself back off his cock, gagging and gasping and a HUGE glob of his thick sponge spit out of my like a drowning victim. "Oh my god, Jim!" he cried with concern as I gasped for breath after his seed splatted on my to, shirt and suit.

Clint was down awkwardly on his haunches with his jeans bunched around his ankles in front of me, concern riddling his face. I was splayed on the floor with my back against the wall, still regaining my breath. I absently looked down at my tie and brought it up to my face and licked a big splattered glob of his cum mixed with my spit off it. "Mmmmm mmmmm mmmm," I moaned around my inhalations, savoring the just-strong-enough taste of his essence. I took a swipe from my coat in my hand that nearly filled my cupped hand and brought it up, licking it lasciviously for him to watch. As I did his concern for me went to fiery desire again. "You always cum like that, stud?" I smirked up at him, swiping some more of him off my shirt and sucking it off my fingers.

"Never before that fast I swear! You fucking drove me over the edge like nothing I've ever experienced-"

His assertion stopped abruptly as I had reached between his legs and taken hold of his boner. It was still hard enough to give a concussion. I caressed it and stroked it, slick from my spit and his cum as his eyes rolled back in his head and I felt his balance falter by the way his hand on my shoulder clenched it.

"For the record, Clint-stud, that was a dream." Giving his cock a squeeze which made him whimper I added, and this is going to be a long night of them if I have my way!

"God yes!" Was all he said, not moving other than starting to pump into my fist as I stroked him.

"You're going to fuck me now," I told him decisively.

That snapped him out of his trance, and for a moment I thought my big,strong hunk didn't like his bitch ordering him around. But when he got up and pulled me to my feet, he brought me face to face with him, his eyes again stoked. "I'm going to FUCK you harder than you attack-sucked my cock. And you're going to forget your name!" he promised in a voice so low it was almost guttural. I shivered with anticipation, my cock throbbing painfully in the confinement of my boxer briefs and pants. "That is, if your ass is as stretchable as that amazing throat of yours," he added, grabbing my buttcheek TIGHT, his long, strong fingers having found my twitching hole through the fabric and massaging it.

"You're going to find out," I said with extreme effort to control my words when all I wanted to do was open myself to him and yell FUCK ME! "that I will not only TAKE anything and everything you can give, but I'll demand and extract MORE!" I promised him back.

His face went to a smirk. With a jab at my hole with those talented fingers he said very softly, "Game ON!"

I grinned at Clint. Any thought of how exhausted I was never entered my mind - I was totally UP for it - GAME DAY. Clint asked me if I wanted him to shower now. In response, I put my hands on his hard, ridged obliques, my thumbs in his furry , deeply- valleyed abs and, taking my toms and never blinking in his gaze, I slowly lifted up his t-shirt, my fingers and palms feasting on ever rip and cord and bulge of muscle on him. It was all HARD muscle - not the gym kind, but the use-of-body kind, like a laborer or pro athlete's musculature. I inhaled a quick breath when I saw his "Budweiser" on his left pec in perfect gold, almost high-def in its perfection.

Clint saw my reaction to his Navy SEAL tattoo. "Ever been fucked by a SEAL, handsome?"

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him almost defiantly. "The question is, Navy, have you ever fucked a Ranger?"

He didn't look the slightest bit surprised, as I had to find a SEAL in a construction worker's garb. He was younger than I but still mid-thirties, so ample time for him to have a young lifetime of combat experience. "No, the REAL question is, how many Rangers have been able to take me!" he countered, sending a jolt of anticipation right into my burning cunt.

I went back to his body, and Clint didn't mind the cessation of our convertsation. I took my time feeling his broad, hugely-overdeveloped traps and delts before I slipped the shirt over his head and brought it to my face and inhaled deeply. Clint-scent - burned into my sensory memory as primally as a shark to blood. "Mine," I declared, meeting his gee again as I tossed the smudged shirt to the table next to me.

Clint's grin was surprise first, then appreciation. "Anything," he offered.

I took him up on that immediately by raising his melon-cepped upper arms above his head and shoving my face into his left pit. His blond fur was moist from the exertion, and his scent was pronounced. But the best part, as I first inhaled long and deep and then licked a long swipe and sucked, was that he didn't use deodorant yet didn't smell or taste the slightest bit rank, probably not even ripe on the scale. Sweaty, manly, musky - perfect.

He moaned as I licked and sucked first his left out then his right, pigging out on him. He may have moaned in enjoyment, maybe in appreciation, or maybe because he kept his arms high and if gripped his gargantuan sac and nuts again and was stroking his steely hardon, spreading a steady, copious flow of his pre over the length of him and making sure to work his huge knob liberally.

"I've already ruined your fancy suit," he moaned. "Guess it doesn't matter if you take this one splattered in a direct hit."

He was grinning and also lost in pleasure. I was much the same. "Are you clean?"

He knew I wasn't going back to the showering topic. "Tested four weeks ago. And how sorry is this? Only my left hand since then and for a couple of months before."

"I am clean, but I can't make that claim as decisively as you. I want your seed DEEP inside me, but we should probably use a condom."

His eyes were burning with lust at a new intensity. "You're clean. I'm clean - too fucking clean. And you're offering me something I'd be a fool to pass up." He said it all evenly, but his eyes and his throbbing cock told me he was over-excited, maybe anxious.

I broke from our gaze and went down on my knees again. A quick kiss to his drooling cockknob and a deep inhale of his most essential maleness, but that was all. I got to work I lacing his workboots and, when I had both undone and the laces loosened, got him to step out of each, him using my shoulder to steady himself, shoving his thick grey athletic socks into each boot and placing them neatly by another table. Then, this time with hands on both my shoulders I pulled off his jeans and jock strap one foot out at a time. I stood again and more carefully than warranted folded his jeans and put them on another table. His jock I brought to my face, inhaled deeply and sacred the rush and the wetness from his precum earlier, then I tossed it on the table on top of his t-shirt.

"Yours, too?" he asked with a playful grin.

"It took all my willpower not to claim your jeans, too. But I figured I didn't want the entire Buckhead area's bottoms swarming you if I sent you home in only your boots and socks. I've got to keep this secret for my own use!"

If he minded my claims and forcefulness, he made no such indication. He smiled, secure in his male topness, irrespective of s dominant bottom like me. What a fucking find he was!

"Time to get you out of those expensive duds of yours, Jimmy," he said, advancing on me.

NOBODY called me "Jimmy" - at least not twice. But when Clint did, my fuckring and all my chute muscles spammed hard with desire.

I threw my cum-blotched suit coat off and into a heap in the floor before he could emit a startled gasp, and I tugged off my Hermes tie and it followed. As I watched Clint's magnificent, blond-furred torso heave and his dripping fuckstick bob in anticipation, I almost ripped my bespoke shirt off and probably would have if not for the cuff links, which I knew wouldn't yield and my hands are too big to get through the cuffs win them on. As I finished that chore Clint had once again taken possession of my slacks' waistband and was unbuckling my crocodile belt and getting the slacks open and pushed down along with my boxer briefs. The briefs caught on my raging bone at about the time he noticed the broad wet gooey spot above my hip where I'd been trapped.

Clint dropped to his knees this time, rubbing his face into my soaked boxer briefs and over my contorted hardon. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" he moaned.

When I looked down his cheek and nose and stubbly chin glistened from my pre. Beautiful. "Get them OFF!" I commanded.

Clint again didn't have a reaction to his bitch ordering him around. But he looked up, put his paw in the waistband, and as he pulled them down and my cock burst free, he looked up at me grinning and said, "Mine," right before he enveloped my cock in his mouth.

I wavered and got a grip on his football-pad shoulders to steady myself while Clint went to town on my throbbing hardon every bit as aggressively as I did his. He couldn't throat mentor did he try - I'm every bit as thick as he is and a good inch longer. But he licked, sucked, stroked and worked my cock over while he grabbed, massaged, rubbed and yanked at my nuts with increasing strength. His technique, I was embarrassed to realize but thrilled to experience, blew mine - pardon the pun - out of the water.

It was amazing. It was so amazing that my nuts' explosion came suddenly and with a force akin to a multi-kiloton nuke. "JESUSCHRIST I'M GONNA-" I shouted, clutching his neck and shoulders as my insides obliterated in a blast that went through me like a million bolts of lightning. Clint gripped my bits HARD and SQUEEZED and sucked me like his life depended on it. I felt the first glob of my seed rocket fe my ecstatically aching nuts all the way up and through and out of my cock, quickly followed by many more. "MMMMMMMRRRRRMMMMGGGGGGGGGGF!" I groaned loudly.

Clint gulped audibly and gave a loud, though muffled, "Mmmmmm!" Every time I felt a blast leave my spewing tip. I could feel his sucking never waver, but I could also feel him struggling to swallow. I lost count of the blasts, of his exclamations and of everything really as I unloaded. Suddenly, though, his mouth was too much sensation, and I roughly pushed him off me, again landing with my back against the wall, knees weak and wobbly but standing.

"Turn around!" Clint ordered, his words slurred, and he roughly yanked me to the side and got behind me and pushed my face down onto the table with his ripe jock strap and t-shirt. Then his face was in my hairy crack, and his tongue was on and in my fuckring and deeper in my hole . . . And he was spitting my spooge and his spit into me, lubing me in the hottest way possible.

"OH GOD YES!" was all I could exclaim as I inhaled him from his clothes under my face and felt my hole spamming around his tongue.

He pulled away for long enough to take a loud breath and said, "HOLY FUCK you taste goooooood!"

To myself I thought THANK CHRIST! I hadn't even given a thought to a pre-flight check back there to make sure, and that was yet another thing that was so unlike me as to make the whole thing even hotter. But right now it was all about MY hole, and what Clint was doing to it and what I knew he was about to do to it.

"FUCK ME, CLINT!" I begged, no longer able to be in control, now needy and desperate for it.

He had my cheeks spread WIDE and his tongue feeling like it was deeper than some unfortunately-endowed men I'd let fuck me had been. His stubbly chin on my hanging nuts was driving me out of my mind with desire. And then, suddenly, he stood and pushed his engorged fuckrod's huge tip against my slimy hole and was gently working it around and against me.

FUCK THIS! I thought, regaining myself. I reared back onto him HARD, impaling myself in excruciating ecstasy, crying out with the pain and pleasure as he cried out, "What the fuck!" As I continued to push back onto him. For emphasis I reached back around him, got a grip on his buttcheek and pulled until he was balls-deep in me. Clint was stock-still.

The pain was, in fact, excruciating. Even the sluttiest bottom's cuntmuscles have limits and to pass them should be worked slowly. Not me - not then. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain and pulled forward enough and the shoved back again. The second time I did it he couldn't take it any more, and with a loud growl he pulled back and slammed into me again HARD, his groin smacking against my asscheeks and his enormous nuts impacting mine painfully. "This what you want?" he challenged, doing it again.

In answer I met his second thrust, doubling the force of impact. "Yes I want it just like that!" I told him, clenching my cuntmuscles and biting my lip HARD to not cry out from the pain.

Clint needed no further urging and pounded me like that - HARD, deep, long-dicking me faster and faster until we'd caused that hall table to be shoved up against the door and banging loudly with every slammed stroke. This fuck had gone on for almost a half hour before I couldn't keep my shoe crooked around the table leg to keep it from bouncing, and it had started moving. Clint could FUCK - that was for damn sure - and that huge fuckweapon inspired me to use every ass-trick I had on it, a couple of times bringing him close enough to shoot but them backing him off. The knocking of the table was troublesome given the hour. I finally gasped out "Give me my coat," on the when he'd moaned out in a long growl when I edged him down again.

That was the first time his pistoning fuckmissile took a break from raping my hole for well over a half hour, and the cessation was a different agony than the abuse. Somehow we both walked back a few feet still coupled and like a game of Twister lowered ourselves to maintain the connection until he could swipe up my suit coat and pitch it over my sweaty-soaked back onto me. I walked us forward again and got the coat stuffed between the end of the table and the door to abate the noise.

"The best fuck I've ever had AND smart and resourceful!"

"Stop the sweet-talk, stud. In case you haven't noticed from the nine inches you've been pounding me with, I'm a sure thing," I cracked back, bent over again, grinding my cunt on his throbbing hardon.

"Now who's sweet-talking? On a good day I can claim eight. But you fucking know that. I bet you could tell to the quarter-inch when you first laid eyes on it. Bet you even know it's seven and five-eights  in circumference too."

"It might as well be your little finger if we're going to debate it instead of making use of it!" I snarled, tensing my hole muscles hard around him.

"DAYUM!" he exclaimed with renewed appreciation. I also noticed that "Damn!" Had at least two syllables, maybe more, very southern . . . And HOT! "I've got an idea," he drawled out, again his southern accent showing prominently.

"If it's better than pounding me through the wall I can't imagine," I not quite joked, looking back around my shoulder to him.

"Get up on the table," he ordered. I tried to get farther forward, more onto the table, shoving my face into the wall as much as I could. He laughed. "I meant sit on the table. I want to see your handsome face when I pound your cum out of you."

"Again," I clarified. One of the reasons if lost the foothold battle holding the table position was that, as he well knew, he'd already pounded my second load out of me, hands-free, while he drilled me. It was as shattering as the first, except that it built for so long I was surprised when I finally went over the edge, as if gone higher than any climax already and figured I was fucked out from being exhausted and so very climactically drained the first time, when he blew me. But, no. In a screaming, wild explosion my balls erupted in a way that made the first time pale on the scale. It was so extreme that I was chewing on his t-shirt and jock and screaming into them, and I had to work hard to keep my cuntmuscles from pulling him over, too. I wanted that pounding for a lot longer, though, and didn't reveal all my anal secrets just then.

I backed him up gently until I was far enough back from the table to pull eight inches of cock very painfully from my ravished and ravaged hole. And it was painful, a grimace stuck on my face after the gasp I couldn't stifle. "Jimmy, if-"

I'd got my shoes toes off and kicked off my pants and briefs, then got up on the table and had my legs in the air, my ass on the edge, and I cut him off by grabbing him by his impossibly big balls - the fucker had drained and they still looked like they carried enough seed to repopulate the earth after a nuclear holocaust! - and yanked his cock toward my sore, swollen hole. "Fuck my lights out, stud! I know you want to."

He grabbed each ankle and, on his tiptoes because of the table's imperfect-for-face-to-face-fucking height, he RAMMED into me balls-deep. My head hit the wall so hard when I involuntarily threw it back that it was louder than the table hitting the door earlier. But the only thing I felt was a direct jolt up into my prostate, the exact angle that had me powerless to do anything other that go with it.

I grappled with my right hand to get my suit coat out from where I'd shoved it so I could stuff it behind me so the table didn't start its cacophony anew. I heard the coat ripoff as I yanked it free, only caring that I got enough of it to serve my intent, irrespective of the many thousands of dollars of hand-tailored wardrobe I was ruining.

Clint rammed up into me harder and faster than before, showing no mercy for my prostate or my savaged cunt. His eyes bored into mine as he did, grinning and intent at the sametime, grimacing slightly with every collision of groin into my ass. His sweat and mine were heavy in the air, along with the smell of cum and testosterone. Anyone who tells you testosterone has no smell has never been in the vicinity of two men aggressively fucking each other.

My cunt was on auto-fuck, working his cock expertly, milking him with every stroke and thrust as my body reacted to them, as my shuddering waves after each prostate-hit and as his thick, veiny cock rubbed my pleasure knob back and forth. I saw in his eyes by the way he started to glaze over, the way his grin went from fun and challenge to bliss, that he was on the ascent again.

It took no effort. A bottom's cum lust is instinctive, and when his top is nearing, the bottom's body primally works it out of his top. My cunt muscles could make any hard cock inside me cum without even thrusting. When a top was thrusting wildly, desperately, the effort was only important to the bottom - to me - to exert his control and make it obvious, to imprint on his top the source of satisfaction to bond him to that source. There's a reason they call it bondage.

I felt Clint's cock thicken more inside me - impossibly, painfully, ecstatically - his enormous flanged head reaming me, assaulting my prostate with every direct hit on the thrust and knock on the withdrawal . . . and I was sailing myself as he was soaring.

"GODJIMMY!" he exclaimed in a burst, eyes locked with mine.

"DO IT, STUD!" I urged.

"With me, Jimmy. Say my name and cum with me!" he pleaded.

"SEEEEEEEEEEEED me, Clint," I begged, more plaintively than I'd intended because I was right on the edge. "Mark, me, Clint. Make me yours!"

"OHFUCK OHFUCK OHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FFFFUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!" he cried and grimaced but never lost our eyes-lock.

I felt him begin to throb inside me, and right then a big drop of his sweat from his soaked curly blond hair flicked at me and landed on my face. That ignited my after-burners, too, right then. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I cried out and began bucking in my own throes as his cock was planted hard deep in me, beginning it's unloading.

My blasts were impressive and coated both of us as we grunted and moaned and growled through our unloading. His blasts were like hot bullets deep in me and the feeling of my fuckchannel being drenched was overwhelming . . . as was the harsh STING of his cum against my raw, sore cuntwalls.

Like before, Clint pumped and pumped. He was winding down when I regained myself after a temporary meltdown in the midst of the pinnacle of it as my body floated on that plain of ecstasy both of release and accomplishment. My top had lost it. I had done GOOOOOD!

Clint's perfect torso was splattered with my cum, as was mine. Our fur was each dripping with it, his down onto me, mine rolling down my sides as well as puddled up in my rips. His Budweiser, way up on that hard slab of his pec, had taken a direct splat, in my view enhancing the SEAL emblem in a way the Navy might have taken exception to. He was gazing at me, almost transfixed. I grinned. Nothing to say. Satisfied beyond anything in recent memory. Suddenly feeling all the exhaustion.

He looked down with obvious admiration at his handiwork, at the load he'd fucked out of me, my third, my second fucked out and both hands-free. I wanted to tell him what a stud he was. But I could see indecision in his face along with the self-satisfaction.

I reached up and cupped his handsome face. His stubble bringing a new lightning bolt to my nuts. "Amazing!" I said simply.

Clint unexpectedly stole a wide, sweeping glance around the suite's rooms and then at my suit coat behind me, finally back to meet my eyes. Ah, now I knew where his head was - his eyes were unsure, a bit sad.

I rubbed his face and gently pulled him down until our lips met. He was tentative at first - so totally unlike before - so I wrapped my arms tight around him and kissed him urgently. He finally went with it, and his cock, which had been softening some inside me stopped and started to re-stiffen. It became deep and passionate, though not desperate nor challenging like before. And it lasted . . . and lasted.

When we finally parted - gently - I once again cupped his face in one hand. I gave him another kiss, though quick and lips only, then relaxed back into the wall. Clint straightened his back a little and stood down off his tip-toed position of the past fifteen minutes - I suddenly wanted to lick his calves! - and looked down, first to where we were joined, then to his jeans on the other table.

"I should probably . . . " he trailed off, looking at me again with that uncertainty.

"Dismount? Yes. Leave? No!" I told him, forcefully the last. His eyes brightened, but then that quick sweeping glance. "You just fucked me, Clint. And, if we're honest, I just fucked you back. Do you honestly think this stuff makes any difference between us? After the connection we have now?" I'd intended gentility and reason, but it almost came out as outrage.

But . . . I'd called it, as certainly as reading a judge or a juror was sixth sense to me. "I'm just-" he started, but I stopped him with my hand on his lips.

"You're JUST a HOT man, an amazing fucker, gorgeous, obviously smart, and you're here, with me, now. Would you be more comfortable somewhere else?" I asked, squeezing his flagging cock smushily with my cuntmuscles.

His eyes shot down then back up. He tentatively, then carefully, grinned. "When you put it like that . . ."

I locked my heels behind his back, his furry "landing patch" causing more of those lightning bolts to my nuts as my heels experienced his maleness. My arms went around his neck, and I locked my hands behind him. "Now, about that shower. Carry me, stud."

I hefted me like I weighed nothing . . . not like two hundred thirty-five pounds of muscle that I was. I laid my head on his shoulder and said quietly in his ear, "I'm in town - here - for another two to three weeks, less a day or two here and there. I'd like you to be HERE as much as works for you, Clint." Then I twisted my neck down and kissed his Budweiser and savored the tickle of his pec fur, the taste of my own cum and the taste and smell of his sweat.

I felt his body react to the offer and expression, but I had no idea what it was. But as we breached the entry to the master suite's bathroom he stopped and whistled. "Well, I was on the fence there, Jimmy," he drawled out, again having slipped to his southern, "fence" having become multi-syllabic as "there". "But now that I've seen this bathroom, you might play hell getting rid of me!" he laughed.

"I could do worse than a dick-of-death SEAL fucker I couldn't get rid of!" I joked. I laughed at my own joke and hugged him tight . . . and hugged his cock tight still inside me.

He backed his head away from me and looked at me with awe. "No shit? Really? Another? he asked, grinding into me. "Damn, you Rangers really ARE tough aren't you? SEALs think that's just a myth.  And just setting it straight, I'm Ranger-fucking SEAL," he grinned, grinding into me, stiffening again rapidly.

"I'm not capable of being in a shower with a hot man without forcing him to FUCK me, particularly a SEAL . . . or a Ranger, for that matter," I told him, exaggerating only slightly. "Causes complications in the locker rooms and when I was in the Army!" I added with a laugh.

He was fully hard inside me in a trice, and I was massaging his huge fucklog with my muscles, completely oblivious to anything other than the feel of him hard again and the slush and squish of his jizz working with my cuntmuscles milking him. "Bet it's the same with a plumber!" he taunted me "Christ, we're not going to get any sleep," he said, a wicked smirk belying his rueful exclamation. "Good news for me is I don't start work until five at night, when the building tenants start shutting down."

"OH MY FUCKING GOD! YOU LUCKY FUCKER!" I exclaimed, wishing I could NOT drag my ass into my client's office at daylight but knowing my team would be there before me, along with some client people working with us, and I had to.

Clint was looking at me very seriously when I tuned back in. As our gaze locked again he told me, "Yeah, I'm a VERY lucky FUCKer," and with the last gave a shove into me.

Me, too, I thought, glad it was a SEAL . . . and wondering if he had a hot plumber friend who might . . .