I had not seen Austin since high school. We were both in our mid-30's, now, and I could only imagine what a hunk of a man he must have become. I had been told that he was coming into my department at work to train as a new salesman. We sold computer equipment. In high school, I probably could have made better grades if I hadn't always been paying attention to Austin rather than to the teacher. I would always try to sit next to him. He had the most beautiful hairy arms, and an incredible smile and demeanor that just exuded masculinity. He had always seemed older, somehow, with his hairy chest and his tall, sculpted body, and a heavy five o'clock shadow even in high school. I used to love watching him shave in the locker room, which he seemed to do rather pretentiously, slowly lathering the shaving cream onto his scruffy beard, then guiding his razor in one hand, the other fingering his thick chest hair as he stood before the mirror. The show off! It's not like he couldn't have shaved at home. He knew he was hot. Sometime he wrapped himself in a towel, sometimes not. And I always wondered if he ever caught me staring. But, I will never forget the day, once, that we were playing "shirts and skins" in basketball practice and we both crashed to the floor under the basket, a shirtless Austin collapsing on top of me, his hairy chest mashed into my face for what seemed like an eternity. Instant hard-on . . . good thing I was wearin' a jockstrap! I can still remember the smell of man-sweat and the feel of thick swirls of chest hair between my lips. Oh fuck!
Sitting there recalling my high school crush, I was shaken out of my daydream by the deep voice of a man who was suddenly standing at my desk: "You can't be Jim!" I looked up, and there was Austin, no 18-year old kid any more, but now grown into the most gorgeous man I had ever seen in my life. It was immediately obvious that he still worked out. What must have easily been 20-inch biceps were practically bursting out of his white dress shirt. He extended his powerful hand, and I nervously reached out and shook it with an acknowledgment that yes, I was Jim, and mumbled some other incoherent response like a blithering idiot as I eyed the dark hair on his muscular wrist as it extended from his shirt sleeve. I dared to look up at him and nervously smiled. Something of the old, boyish Austin was still in his face, and for a moment I felt like I had been transported almost 20 years back in time. I'm sure he must have shaved that morning, new job and all, but it was barely noon and he looked like he needed to shave, again. I found my mind back in the locker room. He had a short, athletic-looking haircut, but with slightly tapered and elongated sideburns, blending into his heavy stubble, that made me lick my lips repeatedly. And he wasn't wearing an undershirt! I could just make out the dark shadow of thick swirls of chest hair underneath his dress shirt. I almost drooled.
"I understand you're here for training," I said to him, as he took a chair across from me. "Yeah." he said with that gorgeous smile, "I guess we're going to be workin' closely together." He actually winked. I almost melted on the spot. I laughed, and said, "Well, let's roll up our shirt sleeves and get down to work, then." I didn't mean it literally, but suddenly he was actually rolling up his shirt sleeves and asking me where to hang his jacket, which he had carried in, over his arm. I gave him the desk next to mine, of course, and stared at his beautiful hairy arms, muscular, sinewy, covered with thick, luscious, dark brown hair curling around his wrists and upper forearms into his shirt sleeves I wanted to reach out and caress them. "I can tell that you still work out, buddy!" I bravely said. "Yeah, every day," he replied, "I stay in shape. What about you? You hit the gym?"
"Oh, I get to the company gym now and then," I said. But, I was no match for him, certainly not in the weight room. My musculature was nowhere near so well developed. My hair was a much lighter shade of brown, almost blond, and I did have a hairy chest, even lightly hairy arms, but I was not the testosterone god that Austin was. We chatted for awhile about high school, him mostly about girls in high school whom I could barely remember, and then we got down to work. I showed him the ropes, gave him some spreadsheets to look over, and did my best the rest of the day to keep my mind on my own work. It wasn't easy. Next to impossible, really . . . especially when, late in the day, Austin took off his tie and unbuttoned not one but two top buttons on his shirt, exposing the thick chest hair curling deliciously up toward his Adam's apple. I found myself making excuses to walk over behind him, lean over his desk to show him something or other, putting my hand on his shoulder, all the while trying to restrain the bulge in my trousers as I peered down into his shirt to look at the thick hair on his chest. What a kid I suddenly was!
Well, the day finally came. Weeks of training, weeks of working closely and agonizingly with this gorgeous hairy man, and yeah, even of going home a few times to jack off while looking at his old basketball photo in my high school yearbook. I couldn't get enough of him. And now, I suddenly found myself traveling with him on his first sales trip. It was a big sale. A company in Chicago. And Austin was a natural. He had taken to his training well, and with that confident handshake and dreamboat physique and smile, I think he could have sold anything to anyone. We traveled in casual clothes, both of us wearing golf shirts, and on the flight from the west coast to Chicago, he fell asleep in the seat next to me. The plane was far from full. We had ordered drinks, and I kicked back and relaxed as best I could, turning my head to look over at his cute sleeping face, inhaling the smell of his aftershave, drooling over his sideburns, oggling his enormous, vein-popping biceps and salivating over the tufts of chest hair billowing from the top of his open golf shirt. Then he shifted, moaned, and I suddenly found that his deliciously hairy arm was nestled against my arm. He felt so good against me, and I daringly reached over with my free hand to caress the curls of hair on his thick muscular wrist. Still asleep, he turned his face toward mine, so that our lips were just a few inches apart. Oh, how I wanted to kiss him! I think I might have, had not the stewardess walked by at that very moment.
We made it through baggage claim and to the hotel in short order, both a little tired from the trip, and checked into our room. We shared one. I had made those arrangements myself, for obvious reasons, but I was scared to death that I would give myself away. How in the world was I going to restrain myself once I saw him naked? How in the hell was I going to keep myself from jumping his bones? As we got settled in, I couldn't handle the thought any more, and suggested that we take a swim. The hotel had a beautiful indoor pool. I quickly changed in the bathroom, stuffing my hard and aching 8 inch cock (I was, at least, well-endowed) inside a jockstrap under my swim trunks, grabbed a towel and took off for the pool. "See you down there," I said to Austin as I left. I swam laps. There was only one other fellow in the pool, as it was late at night. And after half an hour or so, Austin had not appeared. I guess he had decided not to swim. And so, after a few more laps, I hit the showers in the locker room near the pool, and, by chance, walked in on the other fellow who had been in the pool.
Hairy, with thick chest hair like Austin, and with a great body, he didn't hear me come in and, thinking he was alone, was standing there under the spray stroking his cock. A big one, to say the least. I watched him leaning back, eyes closed, moaning, obviously enjoying himself, as I stood there getting harder and harder watching him. He heard the spray of the shower next to his as I turned it on and he suddenly opened his eyes. "Oh damn! I'm sorry . . . ." he started to say, embarrassingly. I just laughed and told him I had enjoyed the show. Then I said "You need any help?" Austin must have really gotten to me, because before the man could say anything, I had reached out with a bar of soap and was soaping up his hairy chest. He started to do the same to me, and both of us moaned loudly as we each washed the other's cock and balls. As I was about to drop to my knees and sample his wares, however, he suddenly turned off the water and reached for his towel. He smiled and excused himself awkwardly. "I have company upstairs," he said. And I said "Oh," disappointed to break it off, and utterly frustrated, knowing who was in my own room upstairs. My mind in a fog from what had just happened, I went back to my locker, dressed in the cargo shorts I had brought downstairs with me, no shirt, and made my way back to the elevator to return to my room. It must have been close to midnight.
I walked into a dimly lit room. There was Austin, sprawled out on one of the beds, still dressed but sound asleep. I glanced at the bedside table and saw several empty airplane bottles of vodka, and of tonic water, and some ice melting in a glass that was still half-full. I walked over and downed what was left and looked over at my things. With some alarm, I noticed my bag still open, and looking as if someone had gone through it. I shuddered when I looked over at the bed, and there, next to Austin, lay open the male porn magazine I had daringly purchased at the airport while he had been in the bathroom, or so I had thought, open to a picture of a hunky, hairy, shirtless firefighter. I looked again at Austin, snoring. His left hand was inside his shirt, the top 4 buttons of which were undone, his thick chest hair billowing softly into the open. His right hand lay at his side next to him . . . but I noticed that his trousers were unzipped, the white fabric of his boxers visible through the opening. He had been jacking off! And to male porn! My head was swimming. I knew Austin wasn't gay, and this was just all too weird! But he was so beautiful laying there, so sweet and angelic in his sleep, so ruggedly hairy and muscled, and apparently, so drunk, that I convinced myself he wouldn't notice as I sat on the edge of the bed looking down at him. I couldn't help myself. I reached down and gingerly fingered the crotch hair billowing gently from his open zipper, and allowed my finger to follow it into the opening and touch his manhood, and to begin to run back and forth along the shaft of it. Within seconds, I was gripping it, gently, softly stroking, squeezing. Pulling it free from the confines of his trousers as it hardened, and leaning down to kiss the tip of it, I wrapped my lips around the huge mushroom head.
"That feels good," I suddenly heard a voice say. I didn't stop. He moaned. I sucked. "You like that, don't you Jim? It's not like I didn't know, you blockhead. I've known since high school." I stopped and looked at his face with tears in my eyes. "I'm sorry," I cried. "I can't help it!" With that, he surprised me, and sat up in bed and took me in his arms, saying "I know you can't. And it's OK!" And he kissed me gently on the forehead and then held my head to his chest, my face nuzzling the thick chest hair, there, licking, searching for a nipple buried in all that hair and sucking on it, gently biting. "Ooooo! Man, you can't stop, can you!?" I didn't respond. I just started unbuttoning his shirt further, pushing it off his shoulders, exposing his huge biceps, and pushing him back onto the bed, burying my face in his profuse chest hair. "I want you, Austin! I've had a crush on you forever!" He laughed, and said, "Yeah, like I didn't notice the stares you gave me in high school! We'll, we're alone. Here I am. All yours!" I looked at him in disbelief and said "You mean . . .?" And he said "Yeah, why not? I mean, I've never done it with a guy before, but what the heck. Actually, there's more to it than that . . . ." I wouldn't let him finish what he wanted to say, placing a finger across his lips. He smiled, and at that, he really shocked me. He grabbed me rather aggressively and brought my face to his, and kissed me, deeply, passionately, the stubble of his unshaven face gloriously scratching against my own. I licked his luscious sideburns, kissed his scruffy face all over, licked my way down across his hairy chest from his Adam's apple to his sternum, pausing there with my tongue, burying my fcae in the thick hair at the center of his massive chest, then nuzzling his thick treasure trail and licking my way downward, ever downward. As I began to follow his hairy trail, he stood up.
I lay there on the end of the bed as he towered over me with his 6'5" frame, all hair and muscle, now covered in sweat, looking down at me as he unbuckled his belt. I watched his hairy, muscular arms unsnap his trousers, unzip, letting them drop to the floor, as audibly gasped as I saw the huge shaft of his cock pushing against the fabric of his white boxers, one little wet spot, there, making my tongue salivate. Suddenly, he pushed them down and they fell to his ankles, and the most enormous, thick, throbbing cock I have ever seen was staring me in the face. It must have been 10 inches or more. And thick, swollen, throbbing, straight as an iron rod, protruding from an incredibly thick, hairy bush. My sudden "Oh my God!" was also audible, and I shuddered at the thought of trying to swallow it, and in the next instant found my lips wrapped firmly around it, not just sucking but making love to it, using every technique I could think of. I wrapped my lips around the base, burying my face in his thick crotch hair and then working my way up and down the shaft, then engulfing it. Austin stood there and face-fucked me for the longest time as I got better and better at taking the whole thing down my throat. I squeezed his low-hanging balls reached around him and fingered the thick, lusciously silky hair of his ass crack, pulling him into me with repeated thrusts between deep breaths as he moaned each time my fingers brushed against his quivering asshole. "Austin! Austin!" I cried, "I want you to fuck me! Oh, please fuck me!" We had pulled down the sheets and Austin suddenly pushed me back onto the pillows and held my arms down as he positioned his strong, hairy body on top of me. I turned my head from side to side and licked his hairy wrists as they pinned me down. He brushed his chest hair repeatedly across my face, as if he could read my mind . . . it was such a turn-on . . . and then, still pinning me down, kissed me, deeply, as he ground his stiff cock into mine. "Free my right hand," I whispered. He did, and I reached for the lube I had grabbed out of my bag and slathered it all over both our cocks as I gripped them tightly together. He fucked my hand, moaning, his hard cock swollen, throbbing, longer and thicker than anything I had ever even come close to dealing with in all my adult life! "Fuck me!" I said. "Fuck me!" He softly replied, "Not yet," and turned to straddle me backwards, lowering his profusely hairy ass crack over my face. Oh, how gloriously beautiful was his hairy ass! My scruffy facial stubble scraped against the soft cheeks of his ass as my tongue probed his deliciously hairy ass crack. I licked his hairy hole, inserted my tongue, fighting through thick swirls of hair, and he was delirious with joy. Finally I rolled him over and again took his huge cock into my mouth and sucked. I wanted it. I wanted him . . . in me! "Fuck me!" I said again, almost begging, and then, as if an expert, he flipped me onto my back, pushed my legs backchard with his powerful hairy a rms, held my feet up in the air and threw them over his shoulders, kneeling between them, placing the tip of his huge cock at my asshole, teasing it a bit, slathering more lube onto his stiff cock, and, perhaps instinctively, massaging my hole with a finger, then two, loosening e up for what was to come. He really did care about me! He didn't want to hurt me. That thought alone was all I needed to bear the pain. I moaned, close to tears, so much in love with this hairy stud og my dreams, I took a deep breath, then another, and another, and I said "Now, Austin! Do it now!"
Oh fuck! I had never felt such pain! An inch, then two, then I practically screamed as he slid the rest of his throbbing 10 inch cock into my hairy asshole. I almost passed out, and gasped for breath, and tried as hard as I might to relax . . . . not always so easy when you are being fucked, certainly not this time. But, I clenched my teeth, and in a minute or two I started to feel the wonderful sensation of his rhythmic piston sliding in and out of my ass. He knew how to fuck! That was for sure! And then, something wonderful. Truly, truly wonderful. I realized that he wasn't just fucking me. He was making love to me! I lay there taking his long shaft time and again up my ass as he fucked me, harder and harder, faster, still harder, but I reached up and caressed his face. He had tears in his eyes! And then the real shock. "I have always wanted to do this," he said, "but I don't just mean having sex with a man." I looked mystified. I didn't know what he meant. "You see, Jim, I have always wanted to make love . . . . to you. Ever since high school! I really have! I have always had a crush on you! Don't you know that?!" I started crying as he said it, just totally weeping in the middle of the most glorious fucking I had ever endured, losing myself in the overpowering emotion of the moment, a declaration of love in the middle of the most powerfully tender fucking I had ever had. He leaned down, continuing to fuck me with his huge, throbbing cock, and he kissed me, as I ran my hands lovingly through his forest of chest hair. I caressed his hairy arms, his scruffy face, brushing my fingers through the locks of hair curling across his forehead, and looked up at him through my tears as he came closer and closer to a climax, to cumming inside me, his stiff shaft almost lifting me off the bed like a lever, inserted so firmly and deeply as it was into my ass. As he continued to fuck me, I reached hp and fingered his luscious chest hair, again . . . he was such a hairy hunk of a man! And then I touched his face, brushed back a lock of hair, caressed his cheek, and looked into his eyes as he slammed into me, his powerful, hairy body continued to dominate mine. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you, Austin!" He smiled. "I love you too, Jim. I know it comes as a shock, but I do. I want to be with you." I had been tenderly running the tip of my own stiff cock through the thick hairy trail running across his abs. Then I reached up and lovingly wiped a tear from his eye, and I caressed his cheek, ever so gently. As I did, he suddenly stiffened, every muscle taut and vibrating, and with an orgasmic thrust of his hips he slammed into my ass like a freight train, and pumped every last drop of his hot man-cum, in several glorious orgasmic streams, into my waiting ass as I simultaneously exploded all over his hard, hairy abs and the thick, billowy hair on his chest. I hadn't shot a load like that since I was 18, and I had a sudden memory of a jack-off session over a picture in a high school yearbook. "Oh, Austin, Austin . . . ." Finally, he pulled out. I caressed his huge, still half-hard cock, gently, and brought a glob of his cum to my lips. His hairy body collapsed on top of me, his scruffy face nuzzling mine. I caressed his huge, pumped-up biceps as we incessantly kissed, and kissed, and kissed, deeply, passionately, lovingly, sweetly, all the time both of us weeping. Tears of joy. Sheer joy! He wiped the tears from my eyes and wrapped his strong hairy and muscular arms protectively around me and pulled me close. I placed my hand tenderly on his cock, nestled my face into the thickly hairy center of his beautiful chest, as he caressed my hairy ass, lovingly, tenderly, kissing my eyelids softly as we lay there, wonderfully happy, licking, kissing, nuzzling, caressing, whispering sweet nothings or "I love you's" into each other's ears, completely spent, and completely at one with each other, like two souls who had merged, as we fell asleep.