He lies, asleep, in the bed next to me.

I am snuggled-up close to him, melting into him like wax.

The sheet barely covers him, us, in our masculine nakedness.

The hair on his chest is soft, as the overhead fan lightly whips it about.

Occasionally, in his sleep, his hand drifts down to his groin, scratching himself or adjusting the sheet so that it is not gathered around his mid-section, making his sleep, unbearably uncomfortable.

His right hairy muscled leg creeps out from underneath his side of the white cotton sheets, snaking down from his hidden covered thigh, as he sleeps on the right side of the bed.


I met him, last night, at the bar.

We kept exchanging glances across the crowded room.

He nodded at me.

I raised my right eyebrow, winking.

He smiled when I did it.

This went on for a while, our little cat and mouse game of nods and winks.

I liked him when I first laid eyes on him; it was instant physical attraction.

Once his friends left, he made his way over to me.

"I'm Crane," he says, as he extended his hand to me in a handshake.

What an odd name, I think to myself but keep the question of its origins to myself.

I take it and introduce myself.

"Ray," I say, "my name is Ray."

"Nice to meet, you," he says, "Do you come here often?"

"No," I say, "this is the first time."

"Did that sound like a pick-up line?"

"If it is," I say," you didn't need to use it."

I smile at him, leeringly.

"Oh, okay," he says, "It was."

We talk as the bar, empties; soon there are only, the two of us, 'new' friends, the bartender and another amorous couple, hidden in the shadows back in the corner.

"Guys, y'all want anything else, the bar is closing?" the bartender asks as he gropes his tightly filled package, in front of us, in his exposed stuffed jockstrap, and runs his hand across his furred chest.

"No, I'm good," I say, "You okay, Crane?"

"I'm good," Crane says, "I'm thirsty, just not for whats on tap here, though."

Crane looks at me with longing in his deep brown eyes.

"You think he was hinting?" Crane says.

"The bartender?" I say, "Yeah, he has been giving me free drinks before you came over here."

"You wanna get outta here?" Crane asks.


We leave the bar, as soon as we walk out. A clicking sound of the deadbolts, happen, the locking permeates the early morning silence in this, the witching hour.

"Been a while since I stayed till last call," Crane says as he sways gently in his walk beside me.

He is drunk or, at least, very tipsy.

"Me, too."

"Where are you parked?" Crane asks.

"I walked."

"Oh," Crane says.

"You wanna come home with me?" I ask, with a pleading sigh-filled moan in my voice, almost begging, whining in my tone.

"Okay, what the hell," he says.

I only live a block or two from the bar in a townhouse on Palm Avenue right here in the heart of the city. I rarely drive anywhere, as all I need is within walking distance from my humble abode.

"Is this it?" Crane asks as we arrive at my gated stoop.


I unlock the door and usher us, over the threshold, into my dwelling.

He raises his head, as I tote him in.

He says nothing.

"C'mon," I say as we make our way up the small flight of stairs that go to my second floor bedroom.

He is deadweight, not much help as I carry him up the stairs, stumbling some when his balance is lost.

Once in the bedroom, he falls onto the bed, on his back.

He plops down hard.

I turn on the overhead light.

"Turn it off, turn it off," Crane yells as the light blinds him.

I bolt to the wall to click it off.

I pull his shoes off, a pair of very expensive designer sneakers.

Then a pair of very cheap white footie socks, holes on each heel.

I stare down at him.

He is wearing a black V-neck sweater shirt with a white tee underneath, peeking out of a pair of faded azure denim blue Levi jeans.

He has a pronounced bulge in his pants.

A mound of impressive manhood is hidden under that glorious cotton fabric.

I unbutton the Levi jeans.

Unzip them.

Wisp of pubic hair escape, as I loosen them from around his lean waist.

He has no underwear on.

"Hey, buddy, what you doin'?" he asks.

"Getting you comfortable."

"Okay, dude," he says.

He drifts off into a light drunken-induced slumber.

I yank the jeans down. I leave them at the foot of the bed. His cock flops out as it is freed from the tight confines.

He is not hard.

He is just blessed with a larger-than-average cock, nestled in a furry bush of hair.

In the dim light from the street lamp, glaring through the open window of my bedroom, I see him in all his glory.

I lift him from the bed, at the waist, pull the dark sweater shirt, and tee over his head.

He is naked; his legs are spread wide, as they are over the edge of my bed.

A washboard set of abs border the way to a furry happy trail, which point the way to the treasure between his legs.

I plant a gentle kiss on his belly button, watching his muscles twitch at my wet touch. I soak in the flavor of this man, of this glorious man sharing my bed.

His cock rest, lazily, against his hairy thigh. He is not hard, just flaccid in all his splendor and quite impressive in this softened state.

I survey his form as I pull my own shirt over my head along with the rest of my clothes.

I grow hard without touching myself as I gaze upon his maleness.

As if by routine, he crawls to the head of the bed and gets under my already turned back sheets, pulling the cover over himself. I did not make my bed this morning.

He rolls on his side, tucking his hand under one of the pillows, turning to the wall, away from the streetlight lit window with the thin sheer drapes.

I follow him, easing my body close to his, spooning my own hairy crotch into the small of his back.

As I do this, he wiggles, as he feels my growing hardness against his back.

I feel his strong arm pull me in closer to him.

As he reaches behind him as he is searching for my body.

The heat of our bodies warms the sheets on the cool bed.

My cock grows harder, the warmer my body becomes.

He turns from being away from me, to being stomachs against stomachs, and kisses me firmly on my mouth. Our tongues dance in each other's mouths as we explore the passion, the intensity that is magnifying between us.

He grabs my face, bringing it in closer to his, showing me the strength in his arms. I reach for him in the same way. We lock into an even tighter embrace as we are fueled by our mutual lust.

Our erections mingle in a sword-like fashion, he grew to hardness, while he was turned away from me, as we edge closer and closer into each other bodies.

"This damned sheet has got to go," he says as he flings it aside, away from our interlocked bodies.

It falls away from us, the light from the lamp, outside, bathes his body in its filtered dimness through the sheer of the curtain, highlighting his firm and taunt musculature.

"You are beautiful, "I whisper to him in-between our ongoing kisses.

"So are you," he says.

A hint of alcohol seeps from our sweaty pours on this night as the adrenaline has increased our growing lust.

Our exchange seems natural, as if we have known each other for a lifetime. This seems so easy, so deliberate, as the minutes grow, along with our steely-hard erections.

"Do you have a lover?" I ask.

"Shh, shh," he says, "all that matters right now is you, is us."

We delve into another passion-fueled kiss, exchanging more saliva between us as we get more excited. He lays his leg over mine, scooting closer as our cocks grow ever harder, leaking our pre-cum onto the lily-white sheets.

He forces me down, from my side, to my back, lying on top of my open splayed body. I feel the weight of him, upon me, his rod pulsating between his hairy muscled legs, into my own groin.

"You feel good, Crane," I say, "I want you to fuck me."

"I am," he says, "I wanted too, the moment, I saw you in the bar."

"I wanted you to, too, the moment I saw you."

"Roll over on your stomach," he asks me softly as he whispers in my ear, while rising up and allowing me to turn over.


My cock is pushed harshly into the soft mattress of the bed. I reach under and adjust my equipment, taking the unwanted pain away, caused from my own body weight and his.


"Yes, I am, now," I say, softly.

"Good," as he sits on my back. His cock and hairy balls brush against me as he kisses my spine, planting wee little wet saliva-infused pecks along my back as he travels the length of my body before arriving at the crack of my ass.

I moan softly and gently.

Excited from the wet kisses and the hardness of his leaking cock too, as each organ journeys down the valley of my back, at varying speeds, each giving me a different sensation as one, then the other, further excites me.

I feel the sheets grow wetter underneath me, as I am expelling more cum from my smashed-up dick against the mattress.

"That feel good?"

"Uh, huh," I sigh into my pillow.

It feels as though he is painting the canvas of my back with his cock-brush, mixing our juices together in painted-mixtures of white cum and blue-sweat into swirling colors of passion and lust.

"Your cock, feels so good," I whisper under my breath, "I want you. I need you, in me."

He kisses my buttocks, going softly over their globe-shaped flesh.

"Your ass is heaving," he says.

"It wants your tool. I want your tool," I say.

"Shh, now, there is time, there is plenty of time for that," he whispers quietly back to me, in-between the soft wisps of his lips.

I feel his hands open my crack and his tongue delve deep into my ass.

"You smell so good," he says, "All musky and masculine, and your hairy ass, excites me."

I sigh as I feel his tongue find my secret button slobbering it up with his natural excretions from his mouth.

His tongue eases in, first, easy, then more forceful, as he pierces that secret barrier.

I open my legs wider, allowing him easier entry.

"Thank you, Lover," he says as I accommodate him.

He darts his tongue into me, fucking me with his wet fleshy organ.

"Go deeper," I say.

"I will with my cock," he says, "I am just getting you ready for me."

He pulls his tongue out of me, licking my rose-budded hairy hole.

I feel the pressure as he gets into the push-up position on top of me, his weight sinks me down into the soft mattress.

I feel his cock, as it pokes into my tight closed ass, inching further into that veil that keeps my ass closed tight. He shoves himself in; I feel the heat from his cockhead, the crowned glory that tops his long thick-flesh-like missile.

He uses his weight and his strength, pushing harder against my ass, parting my cheeks as I welcome him into me.

"C'mon, Lover, open up," he coos softly in my ear as he leans into me, using his strength and his weight.

I shift, as I feel him slowly enter me.

Parting me.

Delving ever so slowly in my dark abyss.

"You can take it," he says, "C'mon."

I move my legs further apart, as he eases another inch of his cock into me.

I gasp.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes," I say, without hesitation.

"It feels good to me, too."

"Go deeper," I plead in between more soft excoriating pleasant moans.

"I will," he says.

I feel the pulsing member of Crane as the blood pumps his organ to its continued fullness.

Crane slides himself, in and out, of my hole, gyrating and twisting, as he opens me up more and more with each thrust.

"Ohhh," I moan, as I feel him.

I reach back, feeling his legs, his hairy legs, as he rams me.

"That feel good, bottom boy."

"Uh, huh," I moan out, again, in response.

The head of his cock, hits the back wall of my ass, the head fills me, stretching me, as Crane's cock is thick and long.

"You want my whole 10 inches bud?"

"Yes, I want all of you," I say.

Crane wraps his arms around my neck, gripping my body tightly.

I am having difficulty, breathing.

I feel panic and anxiety beginning to well up, in me, fear rears its ugly head, as I am afraid I am in great danger. Whom have I brought home with me?

"Relax, Lover, it's time to change positions," he says, "relax, you are okay. Breathe."

He kisses me, softly, assuring me, I am safe.

Crane shifts his weight.

He flips back, falling on his back, while still having his cock buried up to the hilt in my slick-lubed-up hole.

I straddle him, my ass, is now, riding him.

I am mimicking the crab-like exercise from my childhood class in elementary PHYS ED, only I am being fucked, this time.

He is below me.

His legs spread wide, his cock, buried deep into my ass.

I rise, slowly, feeling his engorged mushroom-head, the puckering of my ass, squeezes Crane tighter inside me.

"Squeeze me, Lover, grip my cock with that sweet little ass," Crane says.

My body shakes as I 'ride' him in this most wondrous way.

I pivot my body, walking in a circle, feeling his cock, rotate in my tight ass, I move 180 degrees to him, to have my cock, practically in his face.

Once, I am there, I slide down his pole, again, stopping, when my ass-hairs, intermingle with his dark hairy nested pubes.

"Damn it, damn it," Crane says, "That feels fucking awesome."

"You like that, move?" I say.

"Fuck, yeah," Crane says excitedly as I feel his blood course through the veins of his girth-sized cock in my ass.

"I call that move, 'the helicopter,'" I say, coyly.

"I call, it 'the fuck' I like it," he says, "I really, really like that move."

I ride him like a wild cowboy, he the vaulted steer, horning me with his steel-hard rod. The sweat from our machinations soaks the sheets, filling the room with natural lube and raunchy passionate intercourse, add in the moans, groans and sighs, it is a passion pit of unadulterated lust.

"Ride me, ride me!" Crane screams out as I plunge repeatedly on his stiff member that fills my hole with each upward and downward thrust of my ass onto him.

I squeeze him, with the flesh walls of my ass, milking him of his eternal masculine essence, pushing it up from his balls as I am milkmaid-like, squeezing on the teat of a cow, but instead, I am 'milking' a bull-steer of his juice, thirsting for his protein to engulf and fill me.

"I am going to cum soon," Crane warns me, as I continue my gyrations of a bucking bronco.

"Give it to me," I say.

"I want to fuck, missionary," Crane says," I want to pound your ass, shooting my load deep into that wonderful ass."

We sweat more, as each of us is building, ever-closer to an impending climax.

"Scoot to the end of the bed," he says, "but do not come off me. I do not want to be released from your inner wet prison."

We slide together in paired, unity, edging closer to the foot of the bed. I am still on him and he is still buried, within me. His feet plop on the wooden floor, first, of my downtown flat. The sound of fleshy-feet hitting against the coldness of the floor breaks the silence of the room's momentary stillness, between our exhausted moans and groans.

I turn from facing him, throwing my leg, yoga-like over his head, facing away from him, finally.

"Damn, that feels so damn good," he cries out from that sensation.

"You like that?" I say.

We rise as one; he, his cock, still planted deep in my ass.

We turn, me leaning down onto the bed, parting my legs, apart, as his cock stays in me.

The passion has not diminished from our latest move; he is still hard, as am I.

He slowly begins to pound my ass in glorious fervor.

The sound bounces off the four walls, as his flesh come in contact with mine.

My cock leaks its juices onto the frazzled sheets, un-tucked from the four corners of the bed, caused from the beast-like ministrations of our previous lovemaking.

I feel the sensation built up in me.

He grows even harder with each continued thrust into my bum.

"I am getting closer," Crane calls out.

I can tell his cockhead has swelled to an even bigger proportion in my abyss, fueling the heat, so readily visible between us.

"Shoot your load in me!" I cry out in ecstasy as my own cock explodes with a hurried thrust from Crane. My hands do not touch my cock, as I shoot, rope after rope of cum, from extended member.

I stand somewhat, upright, pushing my ass deeper onto his cock, as I shoot my much-needed load.

I feel his cock, pulse, spasm, as it, too, releases its pent-up, cum-fueled energy, into my waiting-wanting ass.

I reach, with both hands and pull his body, into me, as he spasms and jerks, unleashing his energetic love-juice into me.

We rock as one.

He reaches with both hands, across my chest, scraping me with his nails as he pulls me in closer.

We steady ourselves as we fall onto the tussled bed.

I feel his hot liquid, seep from me, as we gather, together at the head of the bed.

He, silently, drifts off to sleep.


I gaze at him.

Longingly before exhaustion creeps up on me, overtaking me, as I, too, drift off into Neverland.


He still sleeps in the bed next to me.

I spoon-in closer to him, waxing closer into him.

The cum-soaked sheet barely covers him, us, as we lay in our masculine nakedness.

The hair on his chest is soft, as I am running my hands through it, as the fan lightly whips above us. In his sleep, his hand drifts down to his groin, scratching himself or adjusting the sheet so that it is not gathered around his mid-section, making his sleep, unbearably uncomfortable. I reach down and fondle him too. His tool is awe-inspiring.

His hairy muscled right leg creeps out from underneath his side of the white cotton sheets, snaking down from his hidden covered thigh, as he sleeps on the right side of the bed.

I want to pull back the sheets and take him into my mouth, I am consumed with more lust for this man.

I draw myself closer into his intimate space, nudging myself to be a part of him.

Making two into one.

The sex with him, last night was intoxicating, invigorating.

I am drained.




I look to him.

He is why.

If lust were a reason, a legitimate one, I could say I am in love with him, this force of nature.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," I lean over and kiss him on his cheek, "I am going to fix you some breakfast, sweetie, I know you need some protein, since you gave up so much to me, last night."

"Okay," he groggily responds.

I go to the window, pull back the light curtain, overlooking the busy street, below, and peer out, not caring if the neighbors or passersby, see my nakedness glaring out in the parted drapes.

I am happy.


Filled with this man's delicious man-cream.

I look down at my limp cock.

"Good mornin', big fella."

He does not respond.

No saluting.

No pointing up.


"Maybe you will come back to life, again, soon, while Crane is here. Him, plugging my hole, making you rise, to full mast, like last night, didn't he, fella."

"Uhhhh," Crane grumbles as he rolls about on the bed.

"I will be right back with your breakfast, stud," I say to the sleeping handsomely built man in my bed.

I bound out of the room, stopping in the doorway, waving my ass, seductively, to the handsome hairy man in my bed.

He does not see me, in my suggestive maneuver; I do this more for myself, more than for him. I am giddy as am like a once-virgin, having been fucked animal-like for the very first time.

"Be right back, Lover."

I bolt hurriedly down the stairs. I am on a natural high. A night full of hot passionate lust fueled sex. My ass was opened up, explored by a wonderful lover, one of the best, I have ever had to pierce my ass.

I hear the toilet flush upstairs as I am scrambling eggs and toasting some white bread.

I have his tray ready, a daisy in a small vase and a glass of OJ.

I am the hopeless romantic, sue me.

On the stairwell, I hear his footsteps.

"You didn't have to come down, Lover, I was goin' to bring it up," I say, loudly, as my back is turned towards the stove, away from the stairs, as I finish the eggs and place them on the plate on the tray.

I hear the pressure of a foot, of feet, as they make contact with hard laminated wood floor.

I hear a clang, clang, clang, the sound of metal bouncing about on my wooden floor, at the foot of the flight of stairs and then a loud bang as my front door is slammed violently shut.

I bolt from the kitchen to see and hear the door close, I see the last visage of a black sweater as the door is closed. The windows are still shaking when I see this unfold.

He left without even a 'good bye.'

"Ouie, ouie," I say aloud as I step into the hallway at the foot of the stairs onto something.

I lean down and pick up a thick golden intricately etched marked banded ring.

It is a man's wedding ring.

Crane is married.

Why am I not surprised?

I am three for three now, for the past coupla days, I guess I should not expect anything more from a one-night stand.

A boy has to dream.

A boy surely has to dream.

I place the ring on my finger.

I guess I am married to him, now.

Would his wife approve of me?

He put a 'ring' on it.

Oh wait, I did.



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