"Brett?"

"Mr. Sansome?"

We each issued the monosyllables at the same time, as we were almost face-to-face after striding toward each other in the hotel lobby.

He was major hot - tight Under Armour sleeveless workout shirt, sweat-soaked around the neck and down over his obviously massive pecs; hairy, corded, muscular arms with shoulders the size of football helmuts and bi's/tri's the size of softballs; a v-shaped torso from massive shoulders to a really narrow, tiny waist; tight workout shorts that accentuated a very impressive package; majorly muscled legs, hairier than his arms; piercing blue eyes under sweat-stringy, curly, jet-black hair and amid movie star looks. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't anything remotely like the hunk whose firm grip on my hand was making me think how awesome his tight ass would feel wrapped around my cock . . . which was about to make a BIG appearance in my now-tight khakis.

"Sorry," his deep voice was saying. "I got tied up on a conference call that ran long and cut into my gym time, so I cut it closer than I'd hoped. Oh, and definitely call me Rob; MISTER Sansome was my father!" he grinned.

He'd let go of my hand, taken a step back and motioned to his gym clothes and pulled his sweaty shirt away from his chiseled chest. I couldn't make a sound in response as he led the way to the elevator.

Thank God the elevator was full of other people by the time the doors closed, because it gave me an excuse to take off my pack and hold it in front of my tented slacks as I self-consciously glanced over at Robert Sansome's big chest and shoulders . . . and his dreamy face framed by his short, wet ringlets. His corded neck was sweat-sheened, and I almost whimpered with desire to lick it and taste him.

We somehow made it to his floor without me making more of a fool of myself than having a big, raging bone tenting my slacks as I was about to pitch my revolutionary software innovation. As he stepped aside after swiping his key card, I passed Rob close enough to inhale his sweat. HEAVENLY, I thought, as I stumbled on the carpet, embarrassing myself. "EASY there!" he said, big arm around me, hand on my left shoulder and his other hand flat against my solar plexus.

"I'm good," I mumbled, and barely got that out. I started to move on, but he hadn't let go.

He patted my abs, and I almost came. My body jerked from the excitement. "You sure, Brett?" he asked me, holding me tighter again.

"Yeah, just kind of nervous or maybe I should have eaten something or something. Sorry, Mr. San-er, Rob," I blithered.

"Let's get you some juice. I could use some too, after my workout," he told me, walking me into his suite toward a bar. "I finished my water downstairs. Oh, and this hotel rocks - they had recycle bins in the gym for bottles. Isn't that cool?" Nothing was cool. His touch, the heady aroma of his sweat, his exuberance over recycling - it was all just plain HOT!

Rob came around again toward me from behind the bar and brought me a tall glass of orange juice, obviously ice cold from the frosted exterior of the glass. I took it, grateful for anything that might cool me down. I was about to take a sip when he clinked his glass against mine. "To our future," he said, and I coughed, before I even drank. "Drink up! I can't have my future partner checking out before we even hook up here, can I?"

I did my best to drink without choking on the juice as my breathing got heavy from the thought of what I wished those words meant. FUCK MY SOFTWARE - I'd hook up with this stud ANY time!

"Let me top that off for you," Rob offered, taking my half-empty glass from my trembling hands. "You get comfortable and take some calming breaths. I need to grab a quick shower so you don't have to deal with my post-workout funk while we review your software. I'll make just give myself a quick rinse; won't be long."

And then, as he went toward the bedroom and through, he stripped off his shirt, giving me an outstanding view of his amazingly sculpted back muscles rippling . . . and those ripples went right through into my nuts. When he disappeared from view I managed to get myself seated on a sofa without spilling anything or stumbling and tried to do anything other than think about the sound of Rob's shower running and his naked body under the spray . . . rivulets of warm water finding their way through the rips and over the cords of his muscled studbod.

I heard the water go off only a couple of minutes later, and I realized I should get myself set up to show him my invention. Just as I got my MacAir up and connected, Rob breezed back to the doorway to the bedroom. "I really can't WAIT to see what you got!"

Looking over when I heard his voice, I gulped. He was standing in the doorway with just a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, that huge package I saw in his gym shorts now prominently outlined under the front of his towel. And the way he leaned in the doorway with his amazing - how had I missed that before?! - ass cocked out sideways, the towel was close to gaping open from the stretch of his muscular thighs.

"I, uh, can't wait to show you what I, er, what it can do," I stammered.

"I see you're not any less nervous," he said, coming right over and plopping down opposite me in a chair. His knees were wide, and his arms were on his knees as he leaned toward me. "Brett, relax man. Believe me I totally get it. It was my first time once," he told me, patting my knee. "Just BREATHE and show me what you got. Once we get going you'll be too into it to be nervous. I sure was!"

OH! MY! GOD! I'm pretty sure my cock was about to erupt in my pants. His body mostly naked. A slight move on my part and I'd be looking up his towel. His smile was megawatt and also full of concern, energy and everything else that made him HOT to look at and, I was certain, even hotter as a fuckmate.

"HEY!" Rob cut into my thoughts. And then he got up and came over and sat next to me, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Let's just dive into it and get you concentrating on something you love doing."

OH LORD, HELP ME GET THROUGH THIS, I literally prayed.

I stumbled and stammered a little at first, but Rob was right - I totally got into it, got into showing him the amazing, if I did say so myself, voice-to-code utility I'd created. Rob was into it, too, oohing and aaahing and even a couple of OH FUCK YEAHs thrown in.

Still in his towel, now right next to me, his muscular thigh against mine, his hand alternately slapping my back, squeezing my shoulder and now, as he and I were actually reviewing the code itself, squeezing my upper thigh in utter delight. "DUDE, this ROCKS!" he almost shouted, his hand right up against my crotch. He turned to me quickly. "You are going to be SO glad you came to me with this!" he gushed, squeezing me and making me squirm. "Whoa, Brett! You really ARE into your software, aren't you?" he joked . . . because when I squirmed I'd slipped a little on the cushion and pushed my painfully confined hardon into the heel of his hand. I'm sure I looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights. He hadn't moved his hand, and I was stiff as a board - my entire body, not just my throbbing cock.

"I, uh," I couldn't continue after my eyes flicked to his furry abs there close enough for me to rub.

"Wow, I'm flattered BIG TIME!" he said through a sudden grin.

"I, uh," I repeated my abortive stammer.

"I'm not wrong, am I?" he asked. And then he quickly said, "Just shake your head no if I'm wrong, since you're repeating yourself there," he teased me.

My statue-pose continued. I could hardly breathe, much less move my head. Rob pushed the back of his hand harder into my raging fuckrod. And then I did moan. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He grinned at me.

Then, very suddenly, he bolted up onto his feet. The shock of the separation, no longer feeling him against me, was almost as great as the shock of his towel falling away and completing my visual of him. His equipment was porn-star quality!

"Look, we have business to do here, if you want to."

That struck me as funny. I laughed.

"No, seriously," he stressed, hands on his hips now as his humongous low-hangers swayed under his long, thick, swinging cock. The head was like it had been created as an archetype of the perfect penis cap. HUGE piss slit in the FAT, bulbous, flared mushroom. " - so if we're going to do what I think we both REALLY want to do here right now, we have to get the business out of the way first. You with me here, Brett?"

"I, uh-"

At that he laughed. "Do I have to get you inside your program to get some real dialogue here?"

That isn't what I want to be inside," I heard myself say with horror. "OHMYFUCKINGGOD!" I blurted. "OH JESUS. OH MY GOD I'M SORRY - that was supposed to be in my head not on my lips. Wait," I blithered. And suddenly I realized Rob's cock was stiffening right there in front of me, and his smile was now far more a smolder of desire.

"Uh, so what do you say we do the intent letter thing and then do what we really want?" he asked, a little nervously. He quickly stepped away and then bolted into the bedroom. That ass was fucking world class - it would be amazing if my Andrew Christians weren't full of my cumload any second.

Then Rob bounded back in, giving me an amazing view of his heavy equipment bouncing and swinging along with his bouncing muscles. He had a couple of papers in his hand and his phone. He plopped down in the chair opposite me, where he'd first been, when I could barely contain myself over the suggestion of him completely naked. Now he WAS naked . . . and all I could do was drool. "Go ahead and read this - it's a one-page, simple, intent letter. All we have to do is fill in the amount." He grinned at me. "I had a feeling this meeting with you was going to be a winner, and I had no freaking idea how big a winner your software - or you, Brett - would be." He'd handed me the document which was, surprisingly, straightforward. Below an introductory paragraph stating that we would be entering into an agreement and giving both Rob's company's iconic name, address and state of incorporation, and my name and address, which I was a bit surprised to see, there were two short paragraphs, indented, with a check box next to each and blanks to fill in amounts. One was to sell my software - aforementioned! lah ti dah - outright for the sum which was currently blank. The other was to sell the company a license for a one-time-fee in the first blank, and a royalty per license in the second blank.

I just looked up at him, for the first time not concentrating on his hot body. "Just like that? You really want my software?" I was incredulous and sounded it, probably more like a schoolboy than I ever sounded when I was still one.

"OH MY GOD, Brett! Of course I want it! I told you - it's amazing, and it'll be a staple in my own company plus anyone anywhere who develops anything on our operating system. This is going to revolutionize everything!" He was exuberant, his eyes wide and gleaming, and he was leaning in toward me, half off his chair.

"Wow," I said, dumbfounded. I don't know what I thought before when he'd said we needed to get the business out of the way, but now I did.

"Finish reading the document," he prompted me. "I could tell you only got through the two paragraphs of options," he added, addressing my surprise that he knew I hadn't finished reading. As I did as he told me, he also clarified, "You can see I've struck out the part about a contingency for due diligence with respect to the code sanctity, just left the copyright infringement or patent infringement part, which I really can't waive. And the last paragraph states this is binding on me, but you have one week to consult an attorney and can withdraw your agreement if you choose within that week."

I did finish it, every word. Rob sat there, forward almost to being off the seat of the chair, anxious but quiet and still, while I did. I took my time, rereading it a second time, too. When I'd finished the second read-through I asked, "What are the numbers to go in the blanks."

Swiping his phone awake and letting it read his fingerprint, he then punched it a couple of times and then typed fast. Holding the phone out, his index finger poised above the screen, he said, "You're going to get a text with my first offers for both options. In some old day we would have written the numbers on a piece of paper or the back of a matchbook and passed them to one another. Now this is the medium. Ready?" When I just looked at him, he laughed and told me, "Well, don't do anything that would make you seem too anxious or anything. Nothing like, maybe, getting out your phone so you can READ my opening offer?"

I laughed - at myself, embarrassed - and got my phone out and woke it up. We had the same iPhone, the model down to the color, even the same cover - that must mean something? Well, maybe not, or it meant the same something to the other half-billion people who had iPhones! GET A GRIP, Harrington.

My phone vibrated, making me literally jump. I hadn't seen Rob hit SEND on the text; I was too busy dreaming up connections that didn't exist! But when I looked down, I stiffened. I looked again. Then I looked up at him.

"You're not happy with my opening offer? Go ahead and-"

I cut him off, sharply. "Go ahead and laugh at me. You've had your fun at my expense," I spat an shoved my Mac closed with a loud snap.

"Hey, Brett, it was my opening offer. It's yours to counter now."

"Oh, very funny," I said, shoving my Mac in my pack.

"WAIT!" he almost shouted. "What did you have in mind if not twenty-five? Or the five plus thirteen percent royalty?"

"Yeah, yeah," I chided. "Go ahead and laugh at me, the newbie. Even I know my software is worth more than twenty-five dollars."

"TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS?" he shouted. Then he fell to his knees in front of me and put his arms across my knees and looked me in the face. "That's twenty-five MILLION, Brett. Or, of course, five million plus the royalty in perpetuity. I started to push him off me and to tell him his fun was over, but he repeated it. "And that's just my opening offer. Yours to counter."

My head started spinning as I realized he meant it. "Nnnnnnnnnnn, nnnnnnnnnnnn, uhhhhhh, N-NO," I managed to get out, and he looked surprised and perplexed. "What I mmmmmean is," I stumbled on, now my whole body shaking, my brain exploding, "I don't want to counter. But," and then I just froze, with it all coming down to some sort of French satire or something. A naked billionaire, hot as all hell, was trying to get business out of the way so we could fuck without making our deal queer, and he'd thrown out twenty-five FUCKING MILLION DOLLARS at me!

I was laughing so hard I was almost hysterical. But Rob knew I'd gotten it, and he knew I was laughing with joy. Finally, when he'd had enough, he rubbed his hand through my hair then held the side of my face. "Happier?" he asked.

"OH FUCK YES!" I shouted out. "Oh FUCK yes!" I repeated. "But-"

"There's that butt again. And by the way, just for information, the longer this takes the longer I'm here waiting to see your hot butt and for us to BOTH be naked and have some FUN! That is, if you still want to."

My cock lurched in my pants, harder than ever. If I was honest I'd say I wasn't sporting wood right now because of the prospect of fucking Rob. No, I had twenty-five million other reasons contending! "Oh I WANT to, for sure, Rob." With that I pulled my polo shirt out of my khakis and went to pull it over my head, but Rob stopped me. "Wh-"

"We finish THIS," he tapped the paper I'd put on the arm of the sofa, "First. THEN we can do whatever we want knowing it had nothing to do with the business between us."

"Well, of course you're right. But I can tell you this for damn sure: no way that my wild, incredibly energetic and joyous fucking will NOT, at least in part, be because I'm FUCKING RICHHHHHHH!" I shouted the last part.

Rob laughed with me. "So what's the 'but' you had before? And why not counter?"

"Believe me, Rob, I wouldn't know what to counter with. I never in a million years thought you'd jump at my software; I just thought this was an opp to play out and that it would be meeting you that was the payoff. And that would inspire me to do something really better next time. But to have you want it, to see how you GET what I did and to see and hear your praise for my architecture and design, well that's just major WOW stuff."

"So what's the 'but'?" he asked again.

"Well," I started sheepishly, "Could you tell me which you'd take if you were me - the outright sale or the royalty?"

"I'll tell you, Brett, but really, get yourself a lawyer and have him advise you. That part about the seven days to review and rescind if you want also includes if you want to change your structure option." I just nodded. And when I thought I was going to have to ask him again, he finally answered me. "Honestly, the royalty deal is a TON better. In fact, if you don't make the other twenty million back in the first twelve months after release - so within twenty-four months from now say - you have my word that I'll write you a check from my own account for the difference. And then you'll be earning on this for years afterward. That is, unless you have a need for the other twenty million right now. Say a yacht you have your eye on to buy or something?" he teased me.

I took the pen he handed me and put the papers on the end table and checked the box for the royalty and wrote in his offered numbers, then signed and repeated that on the second copy. When I handed it to him, I was grinning . . . and tears were streaming down my face. "Thanks," I said lamely and completely inadequately.

"There's another advantage of the royalty deal, Brett," he added after he'd taken the papers and while he was signing himself. "The royalty deal means we are in business together and have to stay in CLOSE contact!" He grinned back at me.

"I love contact!" I told him.

Rob snapped a photo of the contract and texted it, then he told me he was going to call his attorney and was going to give me the phone, then I'd put it on video, and I'd confirm to his lawyer that it was my signature, that I signed it willingly and that I understood my obligation to have an attorney review it within the seven days. As Rob was waiting for the call to connect I told him I didn't have a lawyer, and he waived it off. Then, before he gave me his phone, which by then I'd figured the reason we weren't doing the video part together was because he was butt naked, he told his lawyer to have a list of the best attorneys he knew for me to use sent to me at once and to have them called to make sure they saw me, whichever I choosed.

I did the multimillion dollar video call and handed back the phone to Rob, who promptly dispatched his lawyer with a reminder about the list of attorneys and calling them about me. Rob put out his hand. "Let's shake on it, partner."

We did, but this time he didn't let go of my hand, and standing himself he pulled me up and continued to hold my hand tight in his. He moved in, and I inhaled his now-soapy-fresh scent and mint on his breath. "Business is over for the day," he murmured against my lips. I pushed forward into his lips, but he pulled back and I whimpered, but Rob wrapped both his arms around me and held me tight, with just his head far enough back to challenge my close-up vision. "This isn't part of the deal. You don't have to do this unless you want to," he warned huskily.

To that I ground my hardon into his. "I want!" I proclaimed.

When our lips finally met, it went from gentle to out-of-control tongue dueling, teeth knocking, groping, grinding, moaning faster than a Ferrari going zero to sixty - much faster, in fact. It was probably the palpable energy that passed from his lips to mine - definitely electric, tingling, but also just his vitality, virility and desire coming through loud and clear. It wasn't filthy - at least at that first kiss - but more being caught up in a force of maleness that was frankly fucking awesome!

Our breath was loud or so it sounded as we gasped for breaths through our noses pressed into each other as we continued that face-suck and grope-fest standing there. My favorite destination for gropes was his amazing ass - two granite globes of promise, his glutes undulating as we ground together. And his responsiveness was intoxicating - a grope there elicited a moan; a swipe over his fuckpucker elicited a growl and an anxious pushback; a hard suck of his tongue elicited a thrust into my groin with his big, hard fuckpole; a bite of his lip made his entire body shiver.

When Rob finally took hold of my raging fuckbone through my slacks my knees almost collapsed. I tried to bat his hand away - which was really the last thing I wanted to do. "FUCK! You have to stop or I'll cum right here right now!" I pleaded.

His eyes were set and fiery. "No, you won't," he told me with certainty. "Not until you're DEEP inside me. That's the way you'll cum the first time with me, and that's the way you'll feel me cum."

"OH FUCK!" I moaned, knees like jello, held up by Rob's one strong arm around me and his other on my emergency handle.

Then he grinned, his eyes playful. "You can counter that, if you want."

At that I laughed . . . and I sort of let my head loll forward onto his shoulder. I had my arms around him and just held on, suddenly too happy and too overcome to do anything but just hold on.

THIS . . . all of it . . . was too good, too unexpected. The money was incomprehensible other than the notion that I was rich suddenly; but I couldn't put any focus on it, didn't really know what it meant other than paying back my student loans. LIKE THIRTY FUCKING TIMES OVER! The acceptance and validation eclipsed the thought of the money though. MY creation, my idea, was GOOD, as pronounced by the Oracle of high-tech, the richest man in the country - maybe the fucking world for all I knew. I'd DONE IT. And the attraction, OH MY GOD I was bowled over by him. Handsome, older, dark, built, smart, nice, well-mannered, AFUCKINGMAZINGLY HOT . . .

The kissing was OHMYGOD incredible. I wasn't much of a kisser - most guys my age were in it for the climax, not the passion, and I was no exception. It was probably my upbringing, as one of three sons of a career army man who treated us more like his platoon than his sons. And don't mistake that he didn't love us - he surely did, as I'm sure he loved his fellow soldiers he served and fought with. But it was bro-love, not open, sentimental or comforting in a direct way, just as a backdrop, a foundation to rely on. So when I started getting off with guys, it was nothing like lovemaking and all about getting off. Sexual acrobatics of the order that young, athletic, testosterone-overdosed men can carry off like an extreme sport . . . then, when the shooting is done, get up, zip up and go for a beer or back to studying. NOTHING like this, already, these few minutes - or had we been ON each other for hours, I really had no fucking clue. The only thing I did have a clue about was that the fucking would be stellar for damn sure.

I returned my conscious focus to his hands running all over my back, rubbing the back of my neck and head, my butt . . . I snuggled into his neck and kissed his neck and shoulder, then bit his shoulder. "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," came in a low roar from him, his chest rising and falling harder again, like when we'd been sucking face. I knew I shouldn't, but I wanted to mark him, wanted to claim him for my own, and I bit and sucked the taut skin over his beefy right trap again, harder this time, surely raising the blood to a mark. "AAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he groaned. "You mark it," he growled, "You might just have to own it."

Then I bit the back of his neck, his wet curls tickling my nose. Another growl/moan and his arms around me TIGHT, grinding into me. I nipped his earlobe and suggested, "Should we take this in the bedroom?"

With that, a sudden movement and I was over his shoulder in a fireman's carry being carried into his bedroom. I didn't protest - instead I enjoyed the advantage of having both hands free to rub, squeeze and tease his bouncing butt as we went the short distance.

I'd suspected he'd throw me down on the bed - I sure would have him if the carry had been reversed - but instead he set me down gently and began to gently undress me. He carefully pulled my polo shirt up out of my khakis and then over my head, arranging it carefully on the bench by the bed. Then he put both hands on my waistband, fingers in, inside my boxer briefs, teasing my groin as he unbuckled my belt. His fingers moving away from my skin to pull the belt free left me wanting, almost shivering. Then they were back, and I really did shiver from the electricity of his touch as he opened and unzipped my slacks. "Sit down, and let me take off your shoes," he gently ordered me.

"I can-" I started, overanxiously beginning to toe off my shoes, but he stopped me.

"NO - let me. I want to."

So I did as told, sat on the edge of a bed so soft and inviting, like nothing I'd ever felt and wondered if two big men rutting on it would get swallowed up in it. As Rob took off each of my shoes, he let his hands feel and rub my feet. I terrified that my feet would smell . . . until he took each, in turn, still in my socks, lifted and rubbed his face against the sole of my feet and moaned/growled happily, still massaging the tops of my feet and toes amazingly. He did mostly the same when he took each sock off, though then he added a long swipe of his tongue from heel to toes within the ritual of rubbing his face on my feet.

"I want all of you - to experience every single part of you," he told me, reaching down and pulling my slacks off as I raised my hips to help. When he had them off he held them up to his face and inhaled deeply as I watched. It sent lightning bolts straight to my cock through my nuts watching him. Then he turned my slacks toward me, held up, and his grin was filthy as he showed me the smears and spots on the front of them. "Ooops," he said simply . . . and then he reached down with one hand and swiped a long glob of precum that was hanging from his cock and brought it up as if to examine it. HOW THE FUCK had I missed seeing that before?

"GIMME!" I begged. And Rob's devilish grin went wide as he bent over me and held the droplet from his finger and lowered it between my lips. "MMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," I moaned, feeling my cock throb and twitch in my pants. Rob rubbed some on my lips before he withdrew, and I sucked eagerly at his big finger.

Rob laughed happily, then looked back at my slacks, now just hanging in air by one hand. "I'll have the hotel clean these so you don't cause a stir later, in public." Then, as if knowing what I was thinking, he clarified, "MUCH later - much, much later I hope before you leave."

"That's where you're wrong for the first time, Mr. Genius Mogul." He looked down at me with sudden surprise, and I tried to be serious and withhold my grin, but I couldn't and broke first into a grin, then a guffaw, which caused Rob's sudden tenseness to dissipate. MAN, that musculature was HOT, flexed and tense or not! "THOSE pants and these briefs," I told him, pointing to my massively precum-soaked briefs - the precum blotches were all over the front and up the side over my hip where my poor, constricted fuckstick had sought space to breathe - "Will NEVER, EVER be washed . . . EVER!" He was grinning at me now again, too. "My only regret is that you've been naked the entire time, so I can't steal yours to keep with my souvenirs of this amazing day, but I'll settle for your towel you were wearing."

"WAIT!" he cried, and he bolted to the bathroom, then back in with his sweaty gym clothes, which he flung at me - every article! His sweaty jock strap - how'd I miss that he had a jock on under his workout shorts? DAMN, I was really slipping! - hit me in the face, and the memory of the first whiff of him I'd gotten and then the better whiff when I was passing him, entering his hotel suite, made my cock emit a large dollup of precum to add to the mess in my boxer briefs. "I'm offering," he told me. "But," he continued as he reached into the waistband of my briefs and caused my breath to catch, "I may want to enjoy these myself, too."

I moved the sweaty jock strap from my nose and eyes and looked up at him. He was holding my briefs, but his gaze was locked on my raging cock, now standing proudly, more precum now running down my already-slicked head and onto my shaft. His look was enrapt - and my nuts screamed for me to throw him down and mount him right then and there. "FUCK you're big!" he exclaimed, low and almost reverently.

"Too big?" I asked before I had a chance to bridle my spontaneous insecurity. Contrary to gay lore, being a top and being horse-hung is more limiting than opportunistic.

Rob sunk to his knees between mine hanging over the side of the bed and, pulling my hardon toward him slightly, engulfed me in the heat and wetness of his mouth. If that was his answer, I liked his response protocol.

I felt Rob force my wide-flared cockbulb into his throat, hearing him struggle with it by groans and a choke. But there I was, balls-deep in his mouth, his nose jammed into my pubes and his mouth making love to my veiny, throbbing cock. "OH GOD, Rob!" I cried out as my body jerked and writhed on the waves of pleasure shooting through me. I  had my hands in his short, damp curls, pushing him to continue, knowing I needed him to stop or I'd be erupting in moments. "OH JESUS FUCK!" I finally shouted, changing the pressure on his head, trying to push him off.

With a final lick-suck-swirl on my cockhead that had me right at the edge, my nuts' afterburners firing up, he released me and drew in some loud breaths. "DAMN that's GOOOOOOD!" he said, slurping and smacking his lips. "I hope you've got condoms with you, because if you don't mine are Magnums but they'll be tight on you," he declared matter-of-factly.

My cock jumped and another big dollup of precum oozed out and slowly slid down the flank of my belled head toward the flange. Rob was on it in a second, his tongue out and flat, lapping it up slowly, savoring it. "FUCK!" he exclaimed.

"That's a good fuck, I'm hoping," I laughed.

Rob met my eyes again. "Oh, baby, I assure you I'm a GREAT fuck. And this," he said, grabbing hold of my cock in a firm grip, his big hand not even covering half my shaft, "Will make it even better, I'm sure of it."

"Get my pack!" I ordered. He was on his feet in an instant, headed out of the room. "Or just go in the inside of the big pocket and there's a small zipper compartment where I've got condoms and lube."

Rob bounded back in and flung my pack down next to me on the bed. "I don't think we're QUITE at the point yet where me going into your backpack for intimate personal items - or anything! - is appropriate," he grinned.

I'd gotten up on my side and was opening the top and digging to get the inner zipper open to get at the condoms when I felt Rob get on the bed beside me, and with one hand on my abs and one around my shoulder and under my armpit, from behind he urged me up onto the bed. I had hold of a foil strip of condoms just as he did, and pushed the pack roughly off the side of the bed as I followed his lead, only minimally registering that my Mac was in there and had thudded with the pack to the floor. Oh, well - I could afford to buy the new one I wanted anyway now! That thought caused a giggle, and Rob picked up on it.

"Are you giggling because you just pulled out five or six condoms there, kind of like an evil laugh of a man who knows he's going to tear my butt up to where I won't be walking?"

I turned to answer, and he was over me, aligned with me, and before I could answer his lips were on mine, hungrily, insistently, and his hard, drooling cock was slammed into my nuts and cock and groin. It was sudden, hungry and insistent - and when he pulled up we were both panting. "That was PLEASE fuck me until I can't walk, in case I didn't say that right!" he leered down at me.

I threw his hulk off me in a move that surprised both of us, and I was on top of him then, my hands planted on his furry pecslabs, my cock slowly rubbing up the length of his and back to his hairy balls. "GOD I'm glad you don't manscape?" I told him honestly, loving his manly shape and look, the feel of his fur over rock-hard muscle.

"Is it that obvious?" he managed to ask through an expression of total distraction.

I contorted myself until, without moving my groin from his, I was chewing on one of his nipples. First I licked it, and he moaned and lightly brushed my hair with his hand. Then I sucked it, and his groin bucked up into mine, his chest shoving against my mouth for more and a long, plaintiff moan that time. Then I bit it, and his breath sucked in loud and hard, his hand clamped on my head shoving my face roughly into that slab of hirsute muscle. Then I bit it harder, and he moaned long and loud, ending with a "OH FUCK YES Brett - oh FUCK yes!"

Stealing a look toward our mashed up groins, I saw an amazing amount of precum there, his absolutely flowing. Obviously I'd hit a bullseye! I worked those nips over until he was squirming and writhing and bucking so hard that with the slickness at our point of conjunction it was hard to keep grinding him. Finally, suddenly, he pushed me hard away. "My turn. About one more minute of that and I'm the one who'll be shooting my wad . . . and I've already told you how I want that to happen with you the first time."

Moving to my side I told him, "Turn over and let me get you ready." He did, eagerly, and as he was moving I cupped my hand over his cockhead, eliciting a loud hiss, but I got what I wanted - a handful of his own pre, separate from our mixture on his abs. Holding my hand carefully so as not to spill it, I dove face first into his upturned asscrack and began feasting piggishly on his center.

"OH JESUS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" he cried out against the bedcovers, pushing his ass up into my face hard enough to feel like my nose might need resetting. One-handed, I managed to pull his furry buttglobe aside enough to really get in there. When I penetrated him with my tongue, we both moaned loud - him from the obvious; me from the taste of him.

That first sensation of a man's unique mancunt taste is always significant . . . sometimes not in a good way! On the contrary, Rob's asstaste shot a jolt from my nuts through my cock that it took me a second to be sure I wasn't actually cumming - it was that awesome. I went to town there like I had on his nips, struggling to contain my aggressive hunger so that I didn't lose the precious organic lube I had in my one outstretched.

"OH FUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKK!" he cried after I'd ridden that hole with my tongue as he bucked and moaned and growled and begged. "You have me so fucking close. Take pity, man - FUCK ME! PLEEEEAAAASSSSSSEEEEEEEEE!"

It wasn't immediate, just to drive him crazier, but I finally pulled away and then went to work slicking him with my handful - still quite full, despite the raucous ass-eating the last five or more minutes - of his pre. As my finger slid into his tight fuckpassage he hissed loud and panted, and the tightness around my finger was like a vise. JESUS, I thought - I really am going to tear him apart. Careful not to over-stimulate him, I worked that finger, then another into that searing, impossibly tight channel, never letting my fingers graze his inner nut for fear he'd be gone, just like that. It was when I put my third finger in that I felt him relax just a tiny bit - his hole and also his body in general, which had been taut. Even his breathing - still heavy and panting - showed some lessening of the tension. He wasn't going to get any readier.

"I want you on your back," I told him. "I want to look into your beautiful eyes and face while I fuck you." He was on his back with his legs pulled back by his hands under his knees, obviously anxious, but his face brightened from determination to pleasure when I said it. "You're fucking handsome as all fuck," I couldn't help but adding, on my haunches looking down at him, holding the condom slackly in one hand.

It's true - he was stunningly handsome and HOT, and he was MINE right then, and I'd be fucking him and making him ALL MINE soon enough. My cock jerked at the thought, and he saw it and let one of his feet fall to my chest while he swiped my precum and took it to his lips. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he moaned. And then, "Let me suit you up."

He got his other leg astride me and took the condom, tore it open with his teeth then took out the large, moist, slick ring. His eyes widened, probably at the size, but he didn't stop. Crunching up, giving me an amazing ab-angle view that had me panting harder for  him, he rolled it on the length of me and then, gently, pulled on my cock and moved his ass to angle toward my tip. I got the hint.

Lined up, I pressed against his pucker. Rob is a big man, but my cock is really, REALLY big, the head wider than looks like anything should be shoved in any hole on any human, particularly from that angle - pucker to bludgeon. But we both knew the physiology, obvious neither of us virgins, and as I pushed in he pushed back just as insistently. Finally, as my cock was bowing painfully from the resistance, with a loud "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" from him, I popped into him.

Rob was panting and thrashing his head, and I instinctively said, "Relax, breathe," as soothingly as I could and held my position for him to adjust.

It wasn't long - it just seemed that way - until I felt that little bit of muscle slackening around my strangled cockhead, and I pushed forward. A snarl this time from him - "ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHH!" as I pushed in, and I could see his eyes alternately clenched shut and wide-eyed as I continued into him.

When my nuts hit his ass I ground in just for good measure, and he groaned out a moan. "God!" he panted. "Did you just shove a baseball bat up my ass?" he asked, one hand on my face, him smiling through a grimace.

"You're amazing for a guy's ego today, Mr. Mogul Genius," I joked and began pumping him. Slow out just a bit, then slow back in.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, MAN, that's incredible. Never been-" but he didn't finish as I surprised him with a hard thrust and he went to a loud cry which finally articulated into, "OHFUCKYES!"

Then we were off. I began long-dicking him, then picked up the pace, then increased the thrust power. And with every escalation he worked himself back into my fucking with just the same increases. It was like we'd practiced synchronized fucking. It was amazing.

Rob's cunt stayed TIGHT and HOT around me like a big man's hand clenching in a silk glove, and my cock was feeling things I only fantasized about. The man could FUCK - that was certain. He fucked back as good as any move I could give him, all the while his big, hard cock flopping against his abs and splattering his pre everywhere.

The look on his face was at the same time both intense and determined and definitely in the game as well as being faraway in pleasureland, looking up at me with an almost angelic quality. I couldn't resist and leaned in and caught his lips, first in a light, intimate kiss. Then he wrapped his arms around me TIGHT, pulled himself up until he was using me for leverage, back-fucking into me, grinding his cock between us and sucking hungrily on my mouth.

The kissing pushed me beyond any control I had, and I was slam-fucking him and moaning like a bitch and growling like a beast all at once. And finally he broke his mouth away from mine just for an instant and said, "OH FUCK JUST LIKE THAT! Don't stop - just fuck me JUST LIKE THAT!" and in an instant his body tensed then exploded, and I felt him cumming . . . HARD. He was bucking HARD and chewing on my lip and tongue and clawing at me with his hands and all the while his tight, hot, wet cunt spasmed and milked my cock even more.

Rob shot a ton of cum between us. It was gooey and slick and amazing. The smell of our sweat in the room had been intoxicating - the cum added something that made my toes tingle. I kept banging him hard, kissing him harder, sucking back with my mouth, biting back with my teeth as he did, and he seemed to be almost still cumming, he was thrashing and writhing so much and sucking my mouth so needily.

Suddenly I felt Rob's cuntchannel clench around me TIGHT, and I broke our kiss to throw my head back in a long, "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" When I looked down again, I saw his face had added another competing emotion to his already pleasure saturation and determination - playful challenge.

"Cum for me. Cum IN me, Brett," he said evenly, but his cunt went into overdrive, as did his hips, slamming himself harder into my every thrust. Of course, that did it.

I felt the explosion like a torch to my nuts then a blastoff that went through me to my hair follicles as I slammed in that last time and started to pump my seed. And pump . . . and pump. He was yelling encouragement and that he could feel it, and my nuts apparently took heed and gave him one of the longest nut-pumpings I'd ever done. When I was about on the last spurt into what I imagined to be the condom looking like a milky water balloon inside him, Rob pulled me gently to him and kissed me, long and gentle.

I was afloat somewhere, awash in sensation and feelings that had no business being included in a first, unexpected hookup. But I was powerless to resist and felt myself floating into his embrace, into the kiss, into him, into us together.

Coming back to reality I have NO idea how much later, I was aware of laying on top of him, of smelling him, of feeling his hug around me, of hearing his breathing. Then, because he obviously was as WITH me as I was coming to with him, he said softly, "I've never had anything like that, Brett. I don't ever want to let you go."

My breath caught, and I suddenly remembered clearly who he was and who and what I was . . . or wasn't as the case may be. I felt him hold me tighter - he must have felt my tension. I was probably supposed to respond to that. I had nothing. Well, THAT was the damn truth, wasn't it? I chuckled inadvertently as that thought went through my head and then was horrified to realize it was inappropriate, that he'd think I was laughing at what he'd said or something, when the truth was I didn't ever want him to let go of me, no matter the reality that this was just a hookup. I had to cover the laugh. My mind raced. I was terrible on my feet like that - well, not on my feet, but . . . "Good thing," I finally replied into Rob's sweaty neck. GODDAMN he smelled good! I resisted the urge to lick up his neck and instead finished my cover-answer. "Cuz I don't have any pants to wear to go anywhere!"

We were laying sort of cross-ways on the bed, diagonally. Rob and I were at the corner on a pillow, almost off the edge by the table next to the bed. He cocked his head and looked down toward the floor. "I'll take that as a compliment, since those are obviously jeans falling out of your pack, so you must want to stay with me."

For a moment I tensed, knowing I'd fucked that round up. I really was bad at banter and small talk and time-after-fucking chat. "Oh, those. Well, ya see," I started, having no clue what I was going to say.

Rob turned me gently off him onto my side and rolled to face me, never letting go of me, and I found myself with one arm under his head and another around him, holding onto him. "I meant it. I don't want to let you go, Brett." I blinked, wide-eyed. "I mean," he continued, "That is if you want to get to know me."

That made me laugh. "I think we're a little past introductions!"

"Okay, look," he said, and his quick turn to a near-command made me flinch a little. But Rob didn't stop, though he saw it. "I'm a lot older than you, Brett, and I've learned that when I know what I want, I either make it happen - or try - or there's no way I'll get it. Don't get me wrong here, dude - the sex was astrostellar phenomenal amazing, but that's not all. You're brilliant. You have a vision and insight and intellect to bring those to bear into an amazing creation. You awe me with that. And you're so unassuming even though you're amazing AND a stud of epic proportions. I'm just saying, this might have just been a trick for you, but I feel a connection with you. One I'd like to explore more and hopefully grow more. That's it - all out there - all in."

I had no idea what to say. None whatsoever. Because I was as into him as he was describing . . . and so not a match or worthy. "So," I drew it out, trying to find a rest to the sentence, "You want us to . . . " he didn't jump in, just kept smiling at me, still holding me comfortingly, pleasingly. "So, like, we go on a date or something?" I finally got out.

Rob's face lit up. "EXCELLENT idea! Wow you're more a genius than I thought!" he gushed and was flailing his arm behind him on the table by the bed. I didn't know if he was kidding or teasing me or what. Then finally he came up with the hotel phone and got it to his ear, giving me a look to hang in a minute. "Yeah, this is Rob Sansome. Can you get my assistant for me? Thanks."

I started to say something, to ask what he was doing, but he just motioned for me to hang. Had he forgot a meeting? Had a thought that would add another billion or two to his net worth? Jeez, what the fuck was I doing here?

"Hey, Jen," he said into the phone, then made a face like he was putting up with something. "Look, no, my phone's around here somewhere, this was just handier. I am going to grab some lunch with Brett Armstrong here, and then I want a reservation for my favorite place for dinner around seven-thirty or so. Yup - our time so that'll be late there. Yup - make it happen. All of it. Thanks, Jen."

He didn't hang up the phone, just let it fall. "I'm starved; I bet you are, too, so let's grab a shower and grab some lunch. Then, we have all afternoon for whatever we want to do until dinner."

"You don't have to-"

"Brett," he shushed me. "I already told you what I want, so it's just up to you. Let's start with the first thing - always a good one, since it's usually easiest. Lunch? With me? Now?" I nodded my head dumbly. He grinned. "AWESOME! Now . . . afternoon together? And that can be playing Guitar Hero or fucking or all of the above . . . anything, just being together."

"I suck at Guitar Hero," I confessed honestly. Then I smirked. He got it.

"So fucking all afternoon? Going once . . . "

"SOLD!" I laughed.

"Then dinner, because we'll have worked up an appetite?"

"Sure, but let me buy dinner. That is if you don't mind going somewhere cheap."

"Er, well, I've already made the arrangements for dinner," he said, feigning a complicated problem. "And it's not exactly something you could pay for."

"Because your favorite restaurant is too expensive?" I asked, remembering what he'd told his assistant.

"Well, no, since you're now a millionaire. But more because they'll kind of be open only for us by the time we get there." I was trying to calculate time - so "the afternoon" meant until like late at night, after restaurants close? Then he cleared it up for me, having let me try to reason it out for long enough. "Have you ever been to Paris?" he asked.

 

BillyC

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