Naval Academy Wrestler

About fifteen years ago my wife and I were living in Annapolis, Maryland. It's a cool little coastal city that's home not only to the Maryland state capital but also to the United States Naval Academy. For us it was a good location since she worked in Washington and I worked in Baltimore. For me it offered the added benefit of putting me in the same town as my younger cousin, who at the time was a student ("midshipman" is the official term) at the naval academy.

It was always great to see him and meet his friends. I have to admit, although I never allowed myself to think of my cousin in a sexual way, it was pretty nice to have the opportunity to check out his friends, many of whom, like lots of military guys, were really good-looking.

For as long as I can remember I've always been attracted to both women and men. After some experimenting when I was younger, by the time I reached my late 20s I had decided to play it straight. Back then, especially, It just made things easier. I loved my wife and she kept me pretty busy in the bedroom, so my desire for female companionship was being nicely satisfied. Unfortunately, I still had longings for men.

One weekend when my wife was away my cousin spent the night at my place with three of his midshipman friends. Two were USNA wrestlers, including a really hot guy who had the muscular body and square-jawed face of a cartoon superhero. His name was Greg. From the moment he walked through my door I had trouble keeping my eyes off him. He had a great head of wavy brown hair and slightly crushed ears that told me he was a wrestler even before my cousin mentioned it. He was probably 5' 10". Between his muscles, his pronounced brow bones, his low forehead, and his jaw he looked like the stereotypical dumb jock but, as I discovered, was actually pretty smart. This turned me on even more.

The rules are pretty strict at the Naval Academy. Alcohol in the dorms is strictly forbidden, and unless you sign out on liberty, as my cousin and his friends had, you were required to be back before midnight. The four midshipmen planned to pre-game at my place and then walk to some nearby bars.

I was well stocked with beer. I drank with them but wasn't trying to keep up. I enjoyed the conversation, and felt especially impressed by Greg, who seemed not only intelligent but also well-read. After a while my cousin wandered into my kitchen and returned with an old bottle of Jagermeister. I had learned my lesson years earlier, but not these guys. As they proceeded to do shots I could see Greg start to fade. Maybe he'd been starving himself to cut weight for wrestling. Whatever the reason, the shots were definitely hitting him hard. At first my cousin and the other guys made fun of him, but when he started to slump over they helped him stumble to the guest room. I stood in the hallway as he stripped down to his tighty whities and they told him to rest up - they'd be back later.

My cousin invited me to follow them out to the bars, but we both knew he was just being polite. I was ten years older and would probably just slow them down. And Greg's continued presence at my place gave me an excuse: "Someone needs to check in on him."

That's what I did, but only after forcing myself to watch television for 10 minutes to make sure he was out cold. Then I sort of tip toed into the guest room. He was sprawled across the bed in his BVDs, totally out and totally on display. Greg had one of the hottest bodies I'd ever seen, and it was there for me to memorize with my eyes. Nowadays I'd snap photos with my iPhone but back then I had to just stand above the bed, absentmindedly caressing my stiffening cock through my jeans while gazing down at him.

His body was muscular and well-defined, with milky white skin and almost crimson quarter-sized nipples fringed with circles of dark-brown hair. He had a small patch of hair at the midpoint of his pecs. My eyes traced the very thin, very faint line of hair that divided his six-pack abs. Beneath his belly button, his happy trail thickened and darkened, descending seductively toward the waistband of his white briefs. These were well-worn and tight; his soft but ample cock bulged nicely underneath the thin fabric. As I gazed down at him I realized that Greg's body was nearly perfect. The only flaws were a few pink lesions on his chest and abs. I guessed they were the result of ringworm picked up when he was pressed half-naked against sweaty wrestling mats. To me, at least, this only made him hotter.

Having recorded in my mind some very detailed pictures of his body to revisit in future jerk-off sessions, I willed myself to leave him alone and walk back to the television. But a few minutes after returning to the sofa I heard the mattress creek as he got out of bed, stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom, and started to piss. He must have spent a solid three minutes emptying into the toilet all that beer and Jager. I heard him flush and then a loud bang as he collided into something. He was definitely wasted. Finally, I heard him get back in bed. I looked at the clock: it was still only 11:00. My cousin and his buddies wouldn't be back for hours. I returned to the guest room.

What I saw surprised me. Greg's briefs were on the floor just outside the guest room. He was now on top of the bed totally naked. He was flat on his back, so his plump cock was on display. It was soft but nonetheless impressive. His cock head was very large, with a broad helmet and deep indentation for his piss slit. His treasure trail descended without interruption into a neatly-trimmed nest of dark brown pubes. His balls were big, round, and basically hairless.

Standing beside the bed I froze for a long second, not really sure what to do. What if he woke up and saw me standing over him, staring at his amazing 21-year-old body? I could feel my mouth water as I took in the sight. He had his left arm raised up and his hand tucked behind his head. I looked away from his crotch long enough to admire the bulge of his bicep and the soft, straight hair in the pit of his arm.

His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy. I couldn't tell if he was passed out cold or merely asleep. I decided that the only way to find out was to try to wake him up. At first I sort of whispered: "Greg?" No response. I raised my voice a little: "Greg." Still nothing. I planted my hand on his right shoulder and left it there for a second, admiring the warmth and firmness of his skin. I decided that, if I woke him, I'd tell him to get under the covers. But if I couldn't, if he didn't wake up, it might be worth risking it to explore him up close.

I clasped his shoulder and shook him a little. "Greg," I said. He didn't even stir. So I shook him even harder. I needed to confirm that he wasn't waking up anytime soon. I even said his name again, this time quite loudly. No reaction.

I lowered my face toward his exposed armpit. With my nose maybe an inch away, I inhaled deeply and admired Greg's scent. I smelled just a hint of sweat as well as the faint scent of Speed Stick deodorant. Almost instantly my cock was throbbing again inside my jeans. I glanced back toward Greg's face to confirm he was still passed out, then set my sites on his nipple. At first I gently touched just the tip of my tongue to his nub. His breathing continued with the same rhythm. He was out. I got more daring and slowly swirled my tongue around the perimeter of his nipple, licking at the light ring of hair that surrounded it. Finally, I gently sucked his tit between my lips. I could feel his nub hardening in my mouth.

When I released his tit and stood over him, I could see that it was not just his nipple that was getting erect. Greg's dick was now at half staff, noticeably plumper and longer as it pointed north into his pubes.

I decided to go for broke, leaning down just to touch the tip of my tongue to the tip of his dick. When my tongue made contact his erection stiffened. Soon a dollop of sweet-tasting precum oozed onto my tongue. I leaned back for a moment to get a better view of him and saw the thin stand of precum connecting my tongue and his piss slit. It glistened like a spider web before breaking and disappearing.

Greg was definitely a grower. His cock was now about six and a half hard inches. I was especially impressed by its width, which made it seem almost as muscular as its owner. And now his dick was defying gravity, jutting upwards at an angle from his crotch and hovering over his pubic hair. My eyes darted down toward his balls. Already his sac had tightened. Every few seconds his dick would twitch a little bit; it was so hard it looked almost painful.

I started to have second thoughts. What if he was merely sleeping? If he wasn't actually passed out, there'd be no way for me to give him the relief he needed without him opening his eyes. I stood up, grabbed his shoulder firmly, and gave him a good shake. "Greg!" I said. "Greg!" There was no response.

I bent down and twisted so that, while my feet remained on the floor, my hands pressed into the mattress alongside his hips. My own erection was leaking in my jeans. When I first saw Greg walk through my door, I never dreamed I'd get to suck his cock.

I extended my tongue and made contact with the base of his shaft, just above his balls. As I slowly licked upwards I felt him stiffen a bit as I my tongue traced its way to the extra-sensitive spot where his glans came together just below his piss slit. I used the tip of my tongue to press down on his dick, tracing little circles at the tip while inhaling deeply as I lowered my nose into Greg's pubes. He smelled fantastic: musky and manly and every bit the hot college jock.

I swallowed to wet my throat and opened my mouth, making sure to cover my teeth with my lips. That's when I took him into my mouth. At first I just sort of nursed on the head of his cock, sucking and swallowing and tasting his delicious precum. Then I got a bit more brave, swirling my tongue around his helmet. Then I started to really go down on him. I bobbed my head down an inch of his shaft and then pulled back up to his head. I bobbed my head down another inch and then another. I kept my tongue swirling along the underside of his dick. I wanted to coax the cum of him with not only the suction of my lips and mouth but also with my tongue. And then Greg's big, throbbing, twitching cock breached my throat. I willed myself not to gag as I pressed my nose into the thatch of his pubes.

I quickened my pace. He felt so good in my mouth and throat. I tasted the salt of his flesh and the sweetness of his precum. I savored the smell of his musk and the feeling of his cock twitching and throbbing and then, finally, fucking my throat.

That's when his hand clasped my head. I glanced up to see his eyes squinted shut as his hips pressed forward, rutting into me. "Fuck yes," he panted. Was he awake or did he think he was dreaming? Either way, he was loving what I was doing for him. He was loving the feelings I was giving him. He was panting. Then, softly, he whispered "don't stop."

I didn't. By switching back and forth between sucking Greg's cock and his balls I was able to make him last for five glorious minutes before finally he erupted in my mouth. He'd stored up a load that was both voluminous and delicious. His cum had the faint scent of bleach but the distinctive taste of honey. I swallowed it all.

When finally his cock began to soften I look back up at him. Greg's eyes were closed. I let his dick slip from my lips and stood again over the bed. I clasped his shoulder. He was still. Was he passed out once more? I shook his shoulder. Nothing. I reached into the closet, threw an old blanket over him, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand.

Late the next morning Greg, my cousin, and the other midshipmen left. Greg seemed well-rested. Everyone else was hung over. I saw everyone out and watched my cousin and his buddies pile into the car. Everyone except Greg, who turned around and walked back toward me.

"I just want to thank you for taking care of me last night."

"You're welcome, Greg," I said. "It was my pleasure."

He smiled. "The pleasure was all mine."

"Know you're always welcome to come over," I said, "whether you're with my cousin or not."

He tilted his head a bit, smiled, and leaned forward. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I'll be cumming a lot."

I absentmindedly licked my lips as I closed my front door. There wasn't much ambiguity in that conversation. It pretty much removed all doubt that he was awake and aware last night. That he knew I sucked him off. That he let me do it. That he liked it. And that he wanted to do it again.

I could hardly believe my luck. Things could have gone differently. He could have woken up and beat the shit out of me. He could have ratted me out to my cousin. Shit, he could have told my wife.

Instead, I got to explore and enjoy Greg's big, muscular body and his big, meaty cock. The facts that he was just 21 and my cousin's friend made things extra hot. The facts that he was a midshipman at the Naval Academy - and a college wrestler - made things even hotter.

As I emptied the dishwasher I let my mind wander. When did Greg wake up last night? Was it when I was bobbing up and down on his cock? Or was it earlier? I had tried calling his name and even shaking him by the shoulder. If that couldn't wake him up, then why did the feeling of my mouth around his dick have that effect? Or maybe he did wake up when I was grabbing his shoulder. But that couldn't be. If I had woken him I would have gotten a reaction. Was it possible that, before I even started to try to wake him, he was only pretending to be passed out?

I wandered into the bathroom and stripped down to take a shower. As I pulled off my boxers I remembered that after he had gone to the bathroom he had pulled off his briefs and dropped them in the hallway. Last night I hadn't given much thought to the fact that he had done that - or why. It's possible that he was just wasted and not thinking straight. Maybe he had gotten some piss on them while taking a leak in the bathroom. I was almost surprised at myself for leaving them on the floor. If I had to do it all over again, I'd pick them up and see if there was any wetness. Whatever the case, I really should have sniffed them to see if I could detect the scents of his crotch and ass. The thought made me feel more than a little bit perverted, but it also turned me on.

By the time I was standing under the warm spray of the shower my cock was erect and throbbing. I hadn't even touched it, but there was no reason to deny myself any longer. I coated my palm with my wife's hair conditioner and started to stroke myself, thinking about Greg. He sure seemed to stumble walking in and out of the bathroom last night. He even crashed into something. Was he just pretending to be that wasted? Did he make all that noise to get my attention? Is it possible he left his BVDs on the floor to bait me back into the guest room, where he laid on top of the bed, on top of the covers, only pretending to be passed out?

I dismissed the thought. I was ten years older than Greg, a college wrestler who spent a lot of time in the locker room with other college wrestlers. He also spent a lot of time in the Naval Academy barracks where no doubt there were lots of other hot guys on display. Up against that sort of competition, there was definitely nothing special about me. But then I let me eyes survey my body. For a guy in his early 30s, I was in good shape. Time in the gym pays off. I had muscular shoulders, well-defined pecs, and even a decent six-pack. My cock, a thick seven inches when hard, had earned me plenty of compliments over the years. I was a hairy guy - hairier than Greg - with a nice mat of fur on my chest and a thick treasure trail that descended from my sternum to the top of my pubes. Most of the guys I'd been with said they liked all the hair. But not all guys felt that way, and there were probably some hookups that never happened because my would-be partner saw the hair curling up over the collar of my t-shirt.

As I pumped my hand up and down on my shaft I reached with my other hand to massage my balls. I loved how it felt when I pulled down on them, slowly but firmly, as I coaxed my dick into overdrive. I then released my balls to move my hand to another erogenous zone: my ass. I soaped my crack and then started to circle my middle finger around my pucker. I pressed my digit into my hole, moving it in and out. When I felt my sphincter grip my second knuckle I started to move the tip of my finger in circles. Suddenly I was back in the bedroom, standing over Greg's naked, muscular body. I was inhaling the scent of his armpit, sucking his nipple, and tasting his precum on the tip of my tongue. I was feeling the scratch of his pubes against my nose and reveling in the musk of his crotch. Then I was swallowing his shaft, feeling it stretch my lips and then my throat. I felt his hand on my head. I felt his hips thrusting. I felt his cock thicken and stiffen and throb. Then I felt him start to cum. As I tasted him my middle finger pressed hard into my ass and my other hand beat down on my shaft. I was panting. I gasped as I erupted. I shot one, two, three, four, and then five volleys of cum. The first two shots hit the shower wall while the remaining three somehow ended up on the back of my hand. I let go of my dick and raised my first toward my lips. Extending my tongue, I licked the cum off the back of my hand, tasting it. Greg's was a little bit sweeter than mine, which had a flavor that was a little bit more difficult to describe. I guess it sort of reminded me of almonds.

After my shower I dried off and dressed, still thinking about Greg. He said he'd come back. But when? My wife was away a good bit but home a good bit more. How would I link up with him? Should I make the first move? I toyed with the idea. I went into our home office and logged onto the internet. I navigated to the USNA wrestling team's home page and scanned the roster for a "Greg." I found him, taking note of his last name. Since my cousin's e-mail address followed the format of [email protected] I figured that Greg's did, too.

That's when the phone rang. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the receiver from the wall. "Hello?" I said.

There was a pause. Then: "Hey, it's Greg." It was him! "I looked you up in the phone book."

"I'm glad you did," I said, maybe a little too honestly. I really wasn't sure how to play this.

"Listen," he said, "I just want to thank you again for putting up with us last night."

"Like I said," I responded, "you're welcome anytime."

"Thanks," he said. I could hear him swallow, like he was gathering his thoughts. "I was wondering if you'll be around later. I have mandatory practice this afternoon, but then I was thinking I'd go for a run. I could come by your place. I have some extra tickets for a wrestling tournament we're hosting on Friday, if you're interested."

That was a nice gesture, I thought to myself. But really it was just an excuse to come over. I was hoping he wanted to see me for the same reason I wanted to see him.

"I'm definitely interested," I told him. "When do you think you'll be dropping by?"

"Is 1800 okay?" he asked, pausing, and then converting from military time: "I mean, 6?"

"That's great," I said. "I'll be making dinner. Any chance you'll be hungry? You can stay as long as you want." As soon as I said that, I worried I was coming on too strong. His reply managed both to reassure me and turn me on.

"Dinner sounds great," he said. "But it's a three-mile run to your place, so I might be kind of sweaty."

"It's just us guys," I said, "no worries."

"Good," he replied, "I really want to talk."

As I hung up, his last words echoed in my head. What, exactly, did he want to talk about?

I didn't know. All I could say for certain was that I was going to find out. He was coming over in just a few hours.

I know it's weird, but I sort of got butterflies in my stomach, as if Greg's visit tonight was some sort of big date. I started to think about what I'd wear and what sort of food I should prepare.

At about 6:15 my doorbell finally rang. As I soon discovered, it was Greg.

He was wearing his USNA "PT" (physical training) uniform, which consisted of dark blue mesh nylon shorts beneath a white t-shirt with navy blue piping on the sleeves and collar. The shirt had the Naval Academy crest above his left pectoral muscle. His hair was matted down, beads of sweat had collected on his face, and his shirt was soaked with perspiration. It clung so tightly to his torso that I could see not only the nubs of his nipples but also the outlines of his muscles.

He was breathing heavily as I let him in. He leaned forward a bit and grabbed his knees, as if standing up straight required too much effort. "Sorry," he apologized, still panting as he turned up his head to make eye contact. "I wanted to see how fast I could get here."

"How long did it take?" I asked him.

He stood up straight again, wiping his forearm across his forehead. "I timed it," he said, breathing heavily. "Just under three miles in eighteen and a half minutes."

"That's fast," I said. He untucked his t-shirt and absentmindedly lifted it up to finish wiping the sweat from his face. My eyes darted down to take in the view of his exposed torso. His muscles were pumped and gleaming with perspiration. His treasure trail, matted down and darkened by the sweat, punctuated his abs and pointed straight toward the bulge in his shorts. Was he wearing anything underneath? I wasn't certain.

He reached behind his back and winced a bit.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I think I pulled a muscle," he said, retrieving from the back of his shorts an envelope that he'd tucked into the waistband. He sheepishly handed it to me. "Here are the tickets," he announced. "Sorry they're all sweaty."

I could feel not only the dampness of his perspiration but also the warmth of his body heat. My cock twitched in my jeans, making me aware of the effect he was having on me.

That's when Greg grabbed his hips, closed his eyes, and twisted his torso, first to the left and then to the right. He winced each time.

"Dude," I said, "you're in pain."

"It happens," he answered matter-of-factly.

"How long can you stay?" I asked. "I can get dinner going if you want me to."

"Unless you're hungry," he said, "I can wait a bit." He paused and then gave me a hopeful smile. "How long do want me to stay? I'm free for the rest of the weekend and definitely not in any rush to get back to that prison."

I could feel my own smile broaden. Was he really suggesting he spend the night? There was only one way to find out. "You're welcome to spend the rest of the weekend, Greg. My wife's not getting home until late tomorrow night."

"That's awesome," he said. "I was hoping you'd say that. I took pass and don't have to go back until dinner tomorrow."

I gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat," I said.

He hesitated, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and puling it away from his skin. The sweat-soaked fabric had been stuck to his torso. He looked at me sheepishly. "You sure? I don't want to ruin your sofa."

"I could get you a fresh shirt and shorts," I said. "If you want," I added, "you're welcome to take a shower."

That's when he started to shimmy it up his torso. I couldn't help but stare. He was giving me a good show, revealing first his abs and then his pecs. He raised his arms as he pulled the shirt over his heard, treating me to a view of his armpits. With his shirt now removed and stretched over his head, he flexed both biceps. He turned his head to sniff his right pit.

We were only standing a few feet apart. When he turned his head and made eye contact, I could see the subtle variations of color in his eyes-a complicated but attractive mixture of brown, green, and grey. "Do me a favor?" he asked, no doubt remembering the night before and knowing that I'd accept his invitation as a command. "Take a sniff," he said. "Do I need to wash off?"

With his arm still raised, he stepped toward me. My back against the wall, I didn't have much choice - and I didn't want one. Even so, It took me a long second to lean forward. I wanted so badly to plant my face in his pit but fought the urge. I could feel my cock expanding in my jeans. I didn't know what game he was playing. Should I act as if I didn't want to smell his sweat? The truth was the opposite. I knew that his pheromones would not only make my head spin, they'd also make my dick leak.

I held my breath until I felt the wetness against the tip of my nose. That's when I almost lost control, inhaling a bit too deeply to sustain the pretense that I expected to be grossed out. I wanted to smell him. Fuck, I needed to. Maybe it was just the effect of his pheromones or maybe there was something associational about his aroma. He smelled like a locker room full of buff, naked teammates, some sweaty and others merely damp and vaguely soapy after having showered. His scent was noticeable but noticeably fresh, with only a subtle hint of musk. "It's not just from the run," he almost whispered. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear. It sent tingles down my spine. "I didn't get a chance to shower after wrestling practice."

I tried to respond in a way that was honest but also noncommittal. "You smell fine," I said, "but if you'd feel more comfortable after a quick shower you're welcome to take one."

He stepped back a bit, dropped his arm, and once again winced in genuine pain.

"Jeez, Greg, are you okay?" There was real concern in my voice.

"It's my shoulder muscles. An old injury. They still get knotted up sometimes."

"Can I help somehow?" I asked.

He looked away and hesitated for a moment, as if gathering up his confidence. Then he looked me in the eye, tilting his head a bit while smiling and squinting, as if he needed to charm me in advance of asking a huge favor.

"You any good at back massages?" he asked. "Whenever this happens, that's what the team trainer does," he explained. "The muscles are all connected. Once he works out all the knots, I'm good to go."

"Is the floor okay?" I pointed to the rug in front of the sofa. Greg smiled. "Perfect," he said.

He surprised me when he shucked off his nylon shorts. Now he was down to nothing except for his tighty whities. They clung to his full, muscular ass just perfectly. He laid face down with his arms extended along his sides. I straddled him at the waist and got on my hands and knees above him. "Where should I start?" I asked. Since the knots were concentrated in his right shoulder blade, he told me to start with the left one. I'd see what the right one should feel like after I'd successfully relieved the tension.

Honestly, I was just happy to get my hands on him and make contact with the warmth of his flesh. As my hands raked over the length of his back, Greg's soft sighs told me that he was enjoying the contact, too. After his left shoulder blade, I avoided the right one, concentrating instead on the techniques I knew would please him. I ran my hands up along his spine. I dipped my hands into the dampness of his pits, feeling the scratch of the hair there and then furtively inhaling his scent. I worked down each of his arms, reveling in the pliant bulk of his muscles. I pressed my thumbs into the base of his spine, drawing little circles while admiring the surprisingly thick "devil's patch" of hair that fanned up above the waistband of his briefs from between his butt cheeks.

I got brazen and let my thumbs wander south, pushing down by a couple of inches the elastic of his BVDs and exposing the tops of his firm, full, and muscular buttocks. I could feel my cock throbbing in my jeans as I circled my thumbs around the tops of his ass cheeks. Greg sighed appreciatively as I used the tips of my fingers to press into his muscles there. Meanwhile, I just appreciated the view. I had only revealed the top quarter of his backside, but I could see enough to know that Greg was even hotter than I thought. At least in my eyes, that is. The cute little patch of hair at the base of his spine thickened as it trailed down into the cleavage of his ass cheeks, which themselves featured a nice frosting of brown fur. I got really daring and allowed my fingers one swipe down the length of his ass crack. I sniffed them - quickly, silently, yet almost reverently. This sweaty stud was mine.

As much as I wanted to do so, I couldn't allow my fingers to massage his ass forever. I turned my attention toward the base of his neck and worked my fingers up through his hair to massage his scalp. I even reached around to his face, smoothing out the muscles of his forehead and eyebrows. He was practically purring, and of course my cock was still throbbing. I could feel it rubbing and leaking against the loose fabric of my blue jeans. I could hardly believe that my hands had the honor to serve, please, and soothe the hot, muscular, masculine young body of a United States Naval Academy wrestler.

"Ready for your shoulder blade?" I asked him. He mumbled something unintelligible, indicating his assent. "Tell me if I'm hurting you," I said.

He winced again as my fingers dug into the muscles around his right shoulder blade. The muscles here were definitely tight. I worked the tips of my fingers in little circles, coaxing out the stress. I could feel his muscles relax as his groans turned into moans.

"How you feeling, buddy?" I asked.

"Amazing," he sighed.

I decided to up the ante: "Now that I've got your back, why not flip over so I can massage your front?"

He hesitated. "The thing is," he said, chuckling, "I'm kind of stiff there, too."

It was clear what he was implying. "Really?" I asked, playing along.

"Really," he admitted.

"Then I guess I need to ease the tension," I responded.

Up to this point, I'd been crouched over him, balancing my weight between my knees and my ass, which pressed down on the lower half of his buttocks. I lifted up to give him room to maneuver. "Flip," I commanded.

"You're sure?" he asked.

I decided to cut the pretense. It was clear what we were talking about. To take the edge off, I said it with a laugh: "It's not like I haven't seen it before."

"I owe you an apology," he said. This surprised me. I was the one feeling guilty. He got drunk, after all, and I was the one who took advantage of the situation. To this day, when I look back on it I can't help but think that I perpetuated some sort of sexual assault. Even though I'd do it all over again and the memory still makes me hard, It doesn't make me proud.

What he said next, at least, made me feel relieved: "I kind of trapped you. I did it on purpose."

He was still face down. Turned on by his body but curious about what he'd say next, I resumed the massaging of his back. On the most basic level, it was just so damn good to touch him. On a higher level, it satisfied me to satisfy him by giving him pleasure. He was such a stud - one I felt lucky just to see, let alone touch. As I admired the incredible V-shape of his back and worked my fingers from his waist, past his lats, and up into the dampness of his armpits, I contemplated what to say. I decided on the obvious questions: "Did what? Trapped me how?"

"I was only pretending to be asleep," he said. "Honestly, I wasn't even really all that drunk."

"But you couldn't even hit the bars with my cousin," I countered. "They practically carried you into the guest room."

"That's what I mean," he whispered. I could hear real guilt in his voice. "I wasn't drunk. I was pretending." My hands had moved from his sides to his shoulders. I let his words hang in the air as I worked his muscles.

"Why?" I asked.

"Maybe I was just imagining it," he said, "but as soon as I walked in the door I saw how you were looking at me."

Greg was being overly modest. "You weren't imagining it," I assured him. "The truth is, it was pretty much lust at first sight. But I felt like such a pervert. You're my cousin's friend, ten years younger than me. And I'm a guy. I never thought I had a chance. I never thought I even deserved one."

In a flash he twisted beneath me, landing on his back. He took me by surprise, although in hindsight I should have expected as much from a college wrestler. Greg was nimble, quick, and as my eyes confirmed, a true specimen of masculinity and muscularity. He laced his fingers behind his head and smiled up at me.

"What do you think of your chances now?"

I paused for a long second to allow my eyes the chance to take him all in. His body was so goddamn big and muscular, the perfect compromise between beefy and ripped. I could barely control my eyes, loving everything I saw and trying to see everything all at once: His heavy brow, his square jaw, his bulging biceps, the sweaty curls of his pits, his armor-plated pecs, his hair-fringed nipples, his six-pack abs bisected by a treasure trail pointing straight toward...

For a brief moment time stood still. But I didn't need to pinch myself. Instead, I felt my cock throb inside my jeans and pump out another dollop of precum. As my eyes traced the path of his happy trail I saw first his navel and then the waistband of his BVDs. Less than an inch lower, I could see Greg's hard cock sticking out of his fly.

For just a second my mouth went dry. I couldn't swallow and I couldn't speak. All I could do was stare and marvel. Greg's dick looked magnificent. Although the base of his shaft was obscured beneath the white cotton of his underwear, the top half was highlighted by it. Like the body of its owner, Greg's cock was big and broad, vascular and muscular. A big vein - pulsing beneath the taut, tight skin of his shaft - pointed up to his wide helmet and the glistening dollop of precum emerging from his piss slit.

I licked my lips.

I glanced up to make eye contact with Greg. He was smiling. "Don't hold back," he whispered. "I'm up for anything."

I leaned down to kiss him on the lips. At first it was just a gentle peck; then it became a smooch. Then his lips parted and I felt our tongues make contact, pressing and sliding in the wet heat of his mouth. I felt Greg's big muscular arms wrap around my back to pull me in closer. I felt the scratch of his whiskers against my lips and my chin. I felt his fingers gripping my scalp, pushing my tongue deeper into his mouth. We were making out, wantonly and feverishly as reserve and reluctance melted in the presence of passion and indulgence. There was now no uncertainty and certainly no holding back.

He shifted his weight beneath me, turning me on my side as his big hand pushed my shirt up my chest and over my head. The next thing I knew his lips left mine to kiss and lick my upper chest. As he started sucking my nipple I tilted my head first to nibble his cauliflower ear and then to taste the salty skin of his neck. I felt his hand wander south to my crotch, where he pawed my hard cock through the fabric of my jeans. Panting, I reached down to unbutton and unzip. A second later his hand pushed beneath the waistband of my boxers. I felt his big warm paw encircle my cock with its grip.

I swiveled my head in order to regain contact with his lips. We kissed, deeply, and then I withdrew. As I stared into his eyes I could feel his hot breath as I brushed my hand down his torso to make contact with his erection, still protruding from the fly of his sweat-soaked BVDs.

I marveled at how lucky I was. It had been years since I'd been with a guy, and I'd never been with a guy quite as hot as Greg, the Naval Academy wrestler. It was hot last night to get to enjoy his naked body, to suck his cock and swallow his cum. But tonight was shaping up to be even better. Greg was wide awake. He wasn't pretending to be passed out. And as I felt the tug of his hand against my cock and looked at the lust in his eyes, it hit me: Greg was as turned on by me as I was by him.

I gave him another quick kiss, grabbed him by the hand, and as I stood pulled him off the floor and up on his feet. I swiftly kicked off my jeans and boxers, standing naked in front of him. I saw him reach to push down his BVDs but stopped him by grabbing onto his dick, which still stuck out from the fly. Holding his cock, I smiled broadly and used my free hand to grab the back of his neck and bring him in for a kiss.

I thought he looked incredibly sexy with his cock sticking out of the fly. I also wanted to signal to him that I was going to be in the driver's seat for a while. "I'll peel these off you when I'm ready, okay?"

He smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

I glanced over my shoulder toward the hallway. "Let's move this to the guest room," I said.

I maintained a gentle grip on his cock as we walked out of the living room toward the bed where I sucked him off the night before.

When we arrived at the foot of the bed, I reluctantly released his dick to place my hands on his shoulders. They were big and broad. I could feel the firmness of his muscles as well as the warmth and the slight dampness of his skin. I spun us around so that his back was to the bed. Then I gently pushed him down so that he was sitting on the edge.

Greg was now eye level with my hard cock. It twitched and bobbed just inches from his face. I saw him lick his lips. I laced my fingers through his hair and tilted his head upward to regain eye contact. "We're going to have a lot of fun doing a lot of things over the next 24 hours," I told him. "Anything you want to do, we'll do. Anything you want to try, we'll try. But first," I continued, "you're going to let me have my way with you."

He was still looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes. He licked his lips again.

"That's right," I whispered. "It's your turn to do the sucking."

He didn't need to be asked twice. He dove right in - a bit too eagerly, in fact. He tried to swallow my cock all in one go, triggering his gag reflex. Coughing, he backed off abruptly.

"Easy, tiger," I said, tousling his hair. "It takes some getting used to." His inexperience was evident, but also kind of endearing. I tilted his head upwards again and stared into his eyes. "Tell me the truth. Have you sucked a dick before?"

He hesitated. He knew the answer, obviously, but wasn't sure if it was the right one. It was very clear he wanted to please me. I understood this fact, and it pleased me very much.

"Tell the truth," I whispered.

"Only once," he admitted, looking up at me. He looked so sexy sitting on the edge of the bed. His cock, still hard, continued to protrude from the fly of his tighty whities.

"Who was he?" I asked.

He broke eye contact, but not to gaze at my throbbing cock. He was now hanging his head, eyes focused on my bare feet. He glanced back up at me. "My high school coach," he confessed.

Suddenly I felt protective. "Did he pressure you? Force you?"

He shook his head. "It was sort of the other way around," he said. "He was hot. He was like you: really manly, really confident." It kind of surprised me that he saw me as confident. That wasn't always how I saw myself. "I wanted him a lot more than he wanted me. He's married, but at the end of my senior year, I caught him in a moment of weakness."

"How?" I asked.

"It's a long story," he said, "but he was drunk."

"So he let you suck him off?"

"He was out of it," he clarified. "He didn't have much of a choice. I don't know if he would have let me. I still feel guilty about it. I wanted to suck him off. I sucked him, but I couldn't keep his dick hard."

I did my best to process what he had just said. It struck me that he and I had a lot in common - but that's not what he needed to hear at the moment.

"Greg," I responded, "thanks to you, my dick is already hard. Very hard. And I'm giving it to you. I want you to have it. My only condition is that you show me you can make the most of it. I want you to remember tonight forever. I want to see you take your time and really enjoy it. Don't do what you think I want. What I want is for you to do what you want. What you really want. I know you want to savor this. I want to see you make the most of all your senses."

He was still looking up at me, but now his guilty expression had been replaced by one of eagerness.

"You can name the five senses, can't you, Greg?"

He nodded. "There's touch," he whispered, "sight, hearing, smell" - he paused for just a second - "and taste."

"Let's start with touch," I said. "Use your tongue and feel the different parts of my dick." Maintaining eye contact, he extended the tip of his tongue and slowly licked from the base of my shaft all the way up to the head. For me, the sensation was electric. I could feel my nipples harden and my balls tighten. He seemed to enjoy it too. He went back to the base and retraced his path. "Now feel around the head," I urged him. I nearly got goosebumps as he flicked his tongue against my piss slit. Then he licked around the circumference of my helmet. Finally, he had the head resting on his outstretched tongue and pointing toward his puckered lips. He looked into my eyes for approval. I nodded, and he slowly pressed forward over just the tip of my penis. The heat and wetness of his mouth felt amazing enough, but the sensations really intensified as his lips locked around my corona and he started to swirl his tongue.

I smiled while staring into his eyes. He was loving this. So was I. I don't think my dick had ever been so hard, and I could feel myself leaking. I alerted him to another one of his senses: "Can you taste what you're doing to me? How good you're making me feel?" Not wanting to pull off my cock head, he moaned in affirmation. The vibration nearly made me shudder.

"Now take me slowly," I whispered. I saw a bit of confusion in his eyes, so I rested my palm on the back of his head. That seemed to clarify things. He bobbed his head and took about an inch of my shaft into his mouth. "Remember to focus on how things feel and taste," I said. He backed off slowly, then want back down again, this time a little bit farther. His head was still, but I could feel the length of his tongue slowly stroking up the underside of my cock. He was trying to milk out more pre-cum. It felt really good, but of course it also fired me up. I wanted more. I needed it. He seemed to sense as much.

He bobbed his head again, this time swallowing even more of me, and this time establishing a sucking rhythm. Watching my dick sink partway into his mouth, over and over as he nursed on me, made me wonder if Freud would guess his mom had weaned him too soon. Certainly he was a natural. It was as if he'd been born for this. "That's it," I said through gritted teeth. "Damn, that's good."

Greg reached up to cup my hairy ass cheeks. He wasn't just holding them. He was caressing them to experience the sensation of my light coating of ass fuzz tickling his fingers. As I had asked, he savoring this experience. He was making the most of his first real opportunity to suck a man's cock. But Greg had needs, as did I. A few minutes later, I didn't complain when felt him grasp my ass and pick up the pace.

He was now swallowing about three-quarters of my cock. His eyes were squinted and his lips were glistening with saliva. I felt one of his hands drop from my ass and saw him reach for his own turgid cock. Before he could touch himself, I swatted his hand away. "Tug my balls," I said, and he did. My nuts felt wonderful wrapped in the heat of his sweaty palm. I called his attention to the sound of his lips smacking and slobbering and to the gulps of his throat. "Don't forget to listen," I reminded him. "That's the sound of you manning up to what you want. You've been craving this and you're not going to censor yourself." He quickened his pace even more. Damnit he was good. I could feel myself beginning to crest the wave toward the point of no return.

That's when I pushed back on his shoulders and pulled out of his mouth. I wanted to prolong the action. Greg deserved the full experience.

He looked up at me, expectantly. He was panting. I could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Catch your breath," I told him. "You see my cock? See it glistening with your spit? See how hard you made it?"

I twitched it so that it bobbed before his eyes. He licked his lips.

"Let's slow things down for a couple of minutes," I said. "The one sense we missed is smell."

He smiled when I said that. His grin was mischievous, as if he'd been granted permission to do what he had wanted all along. He raised up a bit on the bed, leaned forward, and pressed his nose into the dense tangle of my pubes. He inhaled deeply and held his breath. When finally he exhaled I could feel the warm air leave his nostrils. Then he inhaled again.

"What's it remind you of?" I whispered.

As he looked up at me I could see the wheels turning. What Greg said next was unintentionally revealing: "You smell amazing - like a sweaty singlet or jockstrap."

"Like yours?"

"No," he admitted. "Better. Like a teammate's."

My heart kind of swelled when I realized what he was confessing. Greg got off sniffing other wrestlers' undies. That was hot. I could picture myself getting off on that sort of thing, too. I leaned down as I gently grabbed his hair, tilting his head back. I kissed him, allowing my lips to linger. He opened his mouth to grant me access and our tongues intertwined. I took advantage of my new position to reach down and grip his cock. As soon as my hand encircled him, he released a hot stream of precum that pooled on the side of my thumb. I broke our kiss as I lifted my hand to my mouth and gave it a taste. It was sweet, like watered down honey. There was still some left, so I offered it to him. He opened his mouth and sucked my thumb.

I stood straight up to present him with something else to suck on, but he surprised me by pressing my dick up against my navel and instead going for my balls. First his licked my sac, using his saliva to flatten the hairs of my scrotum against the wrinkly skin. He took my left nut into my mouth, pulling back gently while his rolled it around on his tongue. Soon my right nut received the same treatment until it exited his lips with a soft "pop." Then he took both in his mouth, bathing them in the heat and wetness, bobbing his head ever so gently, and moving his tongue in little circles.

Without even thinking, I pinched my nipples and heard myself vocalize something between a moan and a sigh. I looked down to see my hard cock resting on the side of his nose and extending across his forehead into his hair, which softly tickled my helmet.

The sensations, almost overwhelming, made me worry I'd cum right then and there. I had no intention of shooting into Greg's hair. To be honest, I hadn't even planned on cumming in his mouth. When I started this little sensory adventure I saw it as a way to teach him some things and maybe establish some dominance before having my way with his ass. With my wife I could never cum more than once, but with Greg I was pretty sure I could get it up again after a brief rest. It might even be a good thing if I came before taking his cherry. I'd last longer, I told myself. Given the state I was in I'm not sure if this was smart planning or simple rationalization, but at the moment I didn't much care.

His lips made a loud slurping noise as I slowly withdrew my balls from his mouth.

He looked up at me plaintively. "There's something you still need to taste," I whispered. He smiled and opened his mouth.

Part of me wanted to jam my cock down his throat, but then I remembered that this was his first real time. I rested my hands on the back of his head, encouraging him. He leaned forward, unfurled his tongue, and licked from the top of my balls all the way up the underside of my shaft to the head of my cock. He circled it with his tongue, puckered his lips, and slowly went down on me. I didn't expect him to be able to take it all, but then I saw his nose buried in my pubes. He started to suck, bobbing his head quickly and somehow swallowing in a rhythm that matched his movements back and forth. He had me. He had me on the edge.

I could hear myself breathing hard, I could feel my fingers running through his hair and my hips starting to thrust. I looked down and saw his wide shoulders, his muscular back, his narrow waist, and that sexy little patch of hair just above the waistband of his underwear. I saw his firm, full, muscular ass, practically bursting out of his BVDs. I heard him slurping on my cock. I felt his hot saliva leaking from his lips and trickling over my contracted balls.

I felt myself crest the wave. My whole body stiffened. I exhaled sharply and shot one, then two, then three, then four thick volleys of cum into Greg's mouth. I started to shudder. The sensations were just too much. I bent forward at the waist as Greg continued to suck me. I could hear him gulp and feel him swallow. Finally, right before the moment when I couldn't take it any more, I pulled out, pushing him back against the bed before buckling over on top of him. Our lips pressed together as his muscular arms embraced me. We panted as we exchanged wet, sloppy kisses and my hips bucked forward into the heat and hardness of his cock.

I could barely see straight. I don't think I'd ever felt an orgasm so intense. Greg pressed his tongue into my mouth, sharing the remnants of my cum. I nuzzled his neck. I felt his fingertips lightly stroke the naked skin of my back. It was a tender moment. I'm not sure how much time passed: maybe several minutes, maybe not. When I finally pecked him on the lips he smiled at me.

"That was amazing," I whispered.

"You're an amazing teacher," he replied.

"Last night or just now?" I asked. I wasn't sure if he had learned from my example or my instruction.

"Both," he said, nibbling the edge of my ear. "And there's a lot more I want to learn."

Even though I had just cum, I could feel my erection begin to stir. I pressed forward into his groin. The cotton of his underwear provided just the right amount of friction on the underside of my dick. I could feel alongside it the heat of his own throbbing cock, still sticking out of his fly.

Regaining a bit of my strength, I propped myself up on my elbows. This allowed him to shift a bit. His palms slid down from my back and traced up my sides to caress my pecs. His fingers gently pinched and pulled down on my nipples. Releasing them, he raised his arms and clasped his hands behind his head.

"You like my armpits?" The tone of his voice made it a question, but it could have worked as a statement.

I love armpits, and I especially loved Greg's. Pit hair had turned me on since junior high school, when it became for me a visible sign of masculinity and sexual maturity. It helped signify the difference between boy and man. Real men had hair under their arms. To me, pit hair on a guy is like blooms on a rose. I pressed my nose into the damp hair of Greg's left pit. The smell of him brought about an almost involuntary reaction: I thrust my stiffening cock into his cloth-covered crotch.

"Easy tiger," he said, quoting my words back at me. "Let's slow things down for a couple of minutes. We can catch our breath."

I have to admit feeling kind of disappointed. I didn't want to take a break from what at that point was the hottest hookup of my life. But of course there's give and take in every relationship. "You want to take a shower?" I offered.

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Do I need one?"

"Hell no," I whispered. "I love the way you smell."

This caused him to smile. "What I had in mind for slowing things down," he said, "was something both of us might like. Any interest in giving me a tongue bath?"

I didn't need to be asked twice. I pressed my face back into his pit, inhaled deeply, and extended my tongue. Soon I was in danger of suffering from sensory overload. There was the visual, of course. All the muscles of Greg's chest and arm seemed to point toward the manly canal between them. And then there was the fact that Greg's pit hair was smooth and silky but acquired an almost coarse texture when matted down with my saliva. He tasted salty and his manly aroma verged on the animalistic. It wasn't the freshest sweat, after all. He'd started perspiring hours earlier at wrestling practice, and then again he soaked the fabric of his PT shirt running to my place. But all this sweat, all this musk, had been refreshed and recharged during the erotic heat of his submission to my cock. So he was moist, and not only with my saliva. There was nothing rank about his pits, at least not to me. His scent was strong but also, if not exactly fresh, somehow young. In other words, his odor was less like the smell of an older dude at the end of his factory shift and more like a college jock exiting a gym. And that was Greg: a college jock. The only thing regrettable about licking and sucking his armpit was that it caused the taste and smell to dissipate. But if Greg's sweat was disappearing as I exchanged it with my spit, his gentle sighs and the caress of his strong fingers in my hair signaled that he remained very much in the moment. So did his cock, which throbbed and leaked alongside my own.

I fought the urge to keep thrusting, in part because I'd been admonished to slow things down and in part because I knew that, if I sped things up, I'd end up cumming onto the fabric of his tighty whities. I had better plans.

For the moment, however, I contented myself with his other pit. "Contented" is too weak a word, of course. I could hardly believe I was lucky enough to get so up close and personal with Greg. He was a physical specimen, a total stud, a premier Naval Academy athlete, and no doubt the object of the fantasies of many young women and more than a few young men.

Certainly he was a dream to me, and yet all of this was real. It was even real that Greg, a college wrestler and future naval officer a decade younger than me, seemed almost as turned on by me as I knew I was by him.

That's when he flipped over on top of me. It was as if he had read my mind and wanted to validate my thought. He wanted my body. He pinned my arms over my head and returned the favor, suddenly feverish in his need as he swabbed my pits with his tongue. He quickly turned his attention to my nipples, sucking with his mouth, nipping with his teeth, and swirling with his tongue, which he then flattened and extended in order to drag it across the hair on my chest.

As his head rose up from my collarbone he established eye contact. I held it. I wanted to say something but resolved to remain silent for a moment. After all, it was his thoughts I wanted to hear.

His eyes sort of sparkled as he said it: "I've wanted this for so long. Not just with any dude, but with someone like you, who would be my coach."

At that moment my hunch was that he wasn't asking for role play. He was asking for mentorship. In hindsight, I'm fairly certain I was right. He didn't want to be bossed around or barked at. He wanted to be guided by a guy who knew more than he did and who could help him reach his potential. I was flattered he'd see me this way. More to the point, I resolved to be up to the task.

I rolled him over onto his side, running my hand along the length of his torso, his briefs, and then his naked thigh. I grabbed his cock, still hard and leaking as it projected from the fly of his BVDs. Releasing it, I let my fingers trace a path north from the waistband of his underwear. I followed the short little hairs of his treasure trail up to his sternum and reached left and right to caress his muscular pecs.

Then I nudged him backward against the mattress. I couldn't resist any longer. I had to taste his cock again. I started by kissing him on the lips but quickly worked by way down, tracing my tongue over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and then following the path of his treasure trail. By the time I reached his navel I was fondling my cock, just to make sure I was hard and ready to go. I was. As my eyes soon confirmed, so was Greg. His dick was protruding obscenely from his briefs.

I had denied myself long enough. I licked my lips, took in the sight of his throbbing cock, and lowered my face. Starting at the base, immediately above his cloth-covered balls, the tip of my tongue traced a feather-light path along the underside of his shaft. As I reached his prepuce, that extra-sensitive spot where his shaft met his helmet, I started to gently flick my tongue. This brought forth a gasp from Greg and a tiny dollop of pre-cum from the tip of his cock. I dipped my tongue in it and then pulled back. His sticky juice, thin as a spider web glistening in the light, for a long second refused to let go. I then got down to business. As my lips surrounded him, my nose went to work, inhaling deeply. His musk was strong. He had been sweating all afternoon - first at wrestling practice, then on his run, and then during the course of our hot hookup session. It was such a goddamn turn-on to smell him. So much so that I relinquished his dick and pressed my nose into the damp fabric of his briefs. I inhaled and felt my own cock stiffen. My lips latched on to his underwear and started to suck on the cloth, drawing out the salt of his sweat. I tongued his balls through the fabric, pulling first at the left one and then the right. The taste and the aroma, manly and strong, called to mind my own college memories of locker rooms full of hot young men, their pumped-up muscles glistening with sweat and confidence.

For the past 45 minutes, the sight of Greg's cock, protruding through his fly, had tantalized and tempted. It was like I was a kid again, and my most hoped-for Christmas toy had been left partially unwrapped under the tree. Of course I wanted to rip off the last of the wrapping paper. But I also wanted to prolong the anticipation and expectation. I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. Now, I decided, was the time to eat the cake. It was time to finish the unwrapping of Greg's gift to me.

I hooked my fingers under the waistband of his BVDs and slowly pulled it down. The first inch merely uncovered more of his treasure trail, but the second inch exposed the top of his pubes. I kissed, smelled, and tasted his silky hair before pulling down another inch or so. This exposed most of Greg's bush and the very base of his turgid cock. As my nostrils made contact with his nest of hair I breathed in the fullness and intensity of his musk. My cock twitched; it was so hard it almost hurt. Finally I pulled Greg's shorts down far enough that his shaft slipped through his fly and smacked back against his lower abs. I paused for a long second to take in the sight of him. Then I swallowed hard and did my best to cover my teeth with my lips.

As he filled my throat, I could taste not only his salty flesh but also the sweetness of his pre-cum. Soon I was bobbing up and down. I felt my eyes water as the width of his cock stretched my throat. But this only spurred me on. It was as if I couldn't get enough of him. And of course, I couldn't. I couldn't possibly get enough of Greg. I wanted all of him.

As his pubic hair tickled the insides of my nostrils I backed away. I hooked my hands under his knees and lifted his legs. This exposed his balls and hairy ass crack but his BVDs, still mid-thigh, constrained his range of movement. I wanted full access, so I pushed his underwear down his muscular thighs until he was free of all constraints. As Greg grabbed his ankles, I saw his ass spread before me in all its glory.

For a guy with only a moderate amount of hair above the waist, Greg had quite a furry ass. Dark brown hair fanned outward from the center of his crack to dust his firm, full asscheeks. His heavy balls were adorned with fine, longish strands. And then, encircling his asslips, there was a dark, dense moss that outlined my target.

For a brief moment I had second thoughts. Keep in mind, at that point I considered myself basically straight. I'd had fun times with other guys, but the main focus of my sexual energy was my wife. And now I was staring longingly into another guy's hairy, sweaty, and no doubt not 100% clean ass. On one level it was gross. But on another it was hot. Very hot. Even more than his cock, which his teammates and roommates probably glimpsed on a regular basis, his asshole was a private part, taboo and unseen by the world. But now Greg, his knees pulled up to his chest, was inviting me to have my way with it. To share, in the fullest sense of the word, intimacy with him. I felt my dick throb. I could feel my mouth water. I decided to go for broke.

Palming his asscheeks and pulling them outward, I dove face first into his ass. My tongue hung broad and flat as I licked and sucked his hole, drowning it with my saliva, smelling and tasting his body's deepest, darkest secrets. None were too shameful. Greg tasted amazing. Meanwhile he was gasping and moaning almost incoherently: "wow, wow, wow-wow-wow," "more, more," "sir, thank you," "yes, yes," "fuck yes," and "oh, fuuuuck!"

That he was loving this so much made me love it even more. Mostly, it removed from my conscience that twinge of hesitation and, even, shame. If he loved it and I loved it, what could be wrong with it?

I licked my middle finger and pressed into the entrance of Greg's ass. He was tight, of course. "Push out," I whispered, "as if you're taking a dump." Suddenly I felt him open up to me. There was still a bit of resistance but mostly just accommodation. My finger sank in to the second knuckle. I circled around inside of him with my fingertip while using my tongue to trace the length of the underside of his cock. I took him back into my mouth while pressing forward with my finger. My digit sank in all the way while he groaned and rewarded my tastebuds with another little dollop of his nectar. I then started to stir around inside him, working my finger in circles and then in and out. He shuddered as I grazed his prostate, so I focused my attention on this swollen little nub. He gasped. He started panting. My mouth released his dick. "Are you okay?" I asked. He answered in a raspy voice: "Yes. Fuck yes."

I took his words as permission to up the ante. I withdrew my middle finger from his ass and plunged it in my mouth. I know it might sound kind of disgusting, but damn if it didn't taste good. Tangy, and definitely more savory than sweet - but good all the same. I added my ring finger to my mouth, getting it wet as well. Then I took these two fingers, slicked up with saliva, and worked them back into Greg's hole.

I watched his eyes roll back as my knuckles cleared the clench of his hair-fringed sphincter. I heard him whimper. Then I heard him whisper: "so fucking good." I loved that he was comfortable enough to verbalize his feelings. "Fucking great," I enthused in a hushed tone. For some reason I was whispering too. As I gazed upon his ass I noticed on one of my fingers a blaze of gold. My eyes focused. It was my wedding ring. For a second I felt a pang of guilt. A second after that, all I could feel was the throb of my cock and the silky clench of Greg's ass.

I scooted up to kiss him on the lips. He kissed me back. As a matter of fact, he basically gobbled my lips. I reached down to jack my cock with my free hand. Then I reached into the drawer of the end table. This was the "guest room," but for my wife and me it was also a getaway. We sometimes slept here on long weekends and at other times when we wanted an easy change of scenery. She and I had great sex here. But when I reached into the drawer with my wife in the bed, it was because she was sometimes dry where most women are moist.

I pulled out a bottle of lubricant and applied some to the fingers that were causing Greg to moan and pant. He was taking nicely to the penetration, but I knew that my dick would stretch him past the point of comfort. I wanted his first time to be memorable for the pleasure rather than the pain. I wanted him ready.

I also wanted to savor the experience for myself. It's not every day that you get to pop the cherry of a Naval Academy midshipman who just so happens to also be a college wrestler who just so happens to be one of the hottest guys you've ever laid eyes on. I was definitely lost in the moment, but in the back of my mind I also knew that this was going to be one of the most memorable sexual experiences of my life.

I remembered my own advice: make the most of your senses. I took a moment to really feel the interior of Greg's ass. It was slick, but not entirely smooth. There were little ridges of muscle and the subtle bumps caused by blood vessels beneath his skin. And then, as I spread and rotated my fingers, I could feel the firm little scallop that was his prostate gland. I applied pressure and listened for a reaction, but Greg's grunting and groaning actually stopped. Instead I heard a sharp intake of breath. As I saw his head tilt back, his jaw dropped. His eyes darted upwards and I actually noticed his pupils contract. My fingers still spread, I slowly withdrew, dragging against the walls of his rectum. I noticed the hairs encircling his ass lips, slicked up with lube, clinging to my fingers as they pulled away from the heat of his hole. I lowered my head and extended my tongue, tasting the tangy juices on my fingers. I inhaled his musk. Up close I surveyed the crinkly skin encasing his balls and then let my eyes wander up his stiff shaft, bulging with veins just below the surface of his skin, all the way up to his cockhead's tip, which was glistening with even more pre-cum. My tongue followed my eyes and I tasted his salty sweetness. Once more I went down on him, pressing my nose into his crotch while I scooted my body forward. Applying full suction, I slowly withdrew. I half laughed at the slurping sound as he slipped from my lips. Both of us smiled as I hooked my hands under his knees. I lined my lubed cock up with his asshole and angled forward, pressing the head of my dick against the entrance to his ass.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Hell yes," Greg whispered.

I went into coach mode. "What are you going to do to take my dick more easily?"

"Push out," he said, "like I'm taking a dump."

I locked eyes with him. I nodded. "You can also do the opposite," I said. Greg seemed confused.

"Who controls your ass muscles?" I asked.

He nodded as he processed my question. "I do," he said.

"Can you clench them?" I asked.

He nodded again.

"Just keep that in mind, okay? When you want to loosen up to reduce pressure, push out. When you want to tighten up, clench down on me. It's probably going to hurt at first, but after a while the pain turns into pleasure. You sure you're ready?"

Greg reached up to grab the back of my head, pulling me in for a kiss. I guess that meant "yes." I know it meant that my cock moved forward against his ass. I could feel my head press into his pucker, pushing but not penetrating. I debated whether I wanted to be French kissing him while I breached his entrance or whether it would be better to be more upright, increasing my leverage and allowing me to witness the loss of his virginity. After our tongues danced in his mouth, I pulled away from his lips, rose upward, and planted my palms on the undersides of his knees. This freed up Greg's hands,which fell to his sides and instinctively gripped the bedsheets.

I looked down to see the head of my cock nudging Greg's ass lips, both of us glistening with lube. I pressed forward a bit. He was still closed tight. I pressed forward more. Still, no progress. I made eye contact with Greg. "I'm going to count to three. On three, I want you to push out like we practiced. Okay?" He nodded. I could see the nervousness in his eyes. Then I directed my gaze back toward his ass. It really was magnificent: hairy and muscular, it occupied the south side of my favorite neighborhood, just below his balls and an erection pointing true north.

"One," I said, pressing forward a bit more. "Two," I said, pushing harder. I waited a moment. I wanted both of us to remember this. Then: "Three!" Greg's abs contracted and his sphincter bloomed open just enough for me to enjoy the sight and the sensation of my cock breaching the entrance to his ass. As I registered the tightness and heat I looked up toward Greg's face, just in time to see his eyes roll back. His jaw dropped open as his head fell backwards onto the mattress, causing his adams' apple to to bulge out alongside the chords of muscle on his neck.

I held still for a moment. "You did it, buddy. You okay?"

Greg, who had been holding his breath, exhaled. "It feels intense," he rasped, "but I can take it."

"I know you can," I smiled. "You already are."

I pushed forward another inch, leaning in to kiss him. As my tongue swirled inside his mouth I circled my hips to swirl the first two inches of my dick inside his ass. I could feel him begin to loosen up. I pressed forward some more. Greg moaned into my mouth. But still he was kissing me. I began to saw in and out of him. He was still tight, but loosening, and very hot and very wet. A minute later, after a slow but steady descent down his chute, I felt myself bottom out.

At first I held still, allowing him to get used to the feeling of having all of me inside of him. At this point our lips were gently touching but we weren't really kissing. Instead, we were staring intensely into each other's eyes. As Greg's ass relaxed just a bit, I watched his pupils dilate. I took this as a sign that he was ready for more. I slowly withdrew until I could feel the helmet of my cock pull back against his sphincter muscle. Then I slowly pressed back into him, bottoming out. As I repeated this process, I gradually picked up steam. As I fucked him his hands unclenched the bedsheets and made their way to my back. I felt his palms raking up and down my spine. His fingers dug into my shoulder blades as his ass started to buck against me, meeting my thrusts to intensify the sensations. I winced as his fingernails dug into my back.

My tongue extended to scrape against the stubble at the base of his chin. "Fuuuuck!" he sighed, grinding his ass onto my cock. I could feel his dick grazing against my abs, twitching in its desperation for sustained contact.

My plan all along was to fuck the cum out of Greg. I wanted him to experience his first anal orgasm. And now, as I thrust in and out, sweating and panting onto him, I grazed the head of my cock against the nub of his prostate. But as I continued my communion with his insides, as I repeated the teasing of his chute, as I felt myself getting closer and closer to the point of no return, I pulled out just far enough so that the heat and wetness of his ass continued to embrace the head of my cock.

This exposed my own asshole. I reached for the lube and coated my finger, which I quickly shoved into my sheath. As I fingered myself the suspicion that a good fucking could make me cum quickly turned into a certainty.

I pressed my mouth to Greg's and this time allowed his tongue to work its way between his own lips. I climbed over his thighs, grabbed his cock, and angled it to press against my hole. I sat down - immediately feeling pain as my clench rebuffed his attempt to penetrate.

That's when Greg read my mind. "Push out," he said. The student was now the coach. I did as he instructed. A split second later, he pressed in. This time my own jaw dropped. Holy shit! Greg, to me, was many great things. At this point, however, the only thing that mattered was his hard, thick cock. I forced myself down on him. I couldn't get enough. And even if I had wanted to slow things down, Greg, who was bucking into me, was in no mood to hold back. I'd been fucked before, but never like this.

The consummate wrestler, of course Greg didn't hesitate to maneuver into a more advantageous position. He flipped me onto my back. He leaned down to kiss me and then to suck and bite my neck. There was little thought involved. He was rutting up against me. Our sex had turned primal, wanton. I felt him lower himself onto me as the force of his thrusts increased. My hands embraced the slickness of his sweaty back. His treasure trail danced against the underside of my erection. I did my best to press up into him. I felt the heat and moisture of his body, the musculature of his hairy ass, the scrape of his teeth against the sensitive skin of my ear. I inhaled the moist heat of his body. I tasted the salt of his sweat.

That's when I crested the wave. I convulsed and unleashed. I spewed and I clenched. As my cock started to shoot my ass muscles tightened around Greg's shaft. That's when I heard him breathe in sharply. I could feel him shoot. There was the first, long ejaculation. He clutched my body and sort of whimpered. He thrust into me a split second later, grunting again. And then again. And again. I was surprised to be able to feel the volume of his cum. Never before had I been with a guy and felt his load leaking from around his dick to trickle over the tight ring of my ass.

Greg collapsed on top of me. "Stay in me," I panted. "Don't pull out." I didn't want to break the connection. Neither, it seemed, did he.

When eventually his cock softened and gently slipped from my ass, he rolled to his side. He looked amazing. His muscles were pumped and his skin was flush. He was glistening with sweat and - on his abs and around his pubes - cum.

Greg and I showered together and then dried each other off. We went out onto the deck naked to grill our dinner. By this point it was totally dark - and certainly fairly private. After dinner we fucked again. This time he took the lead. But this time I finished by breeding him.

The sex continued for the remainder of the academic year. Even after Greg graduated, we remained close. He visited once when my wife was away. When he came home on R and R from one of his deployments, I flew out to see him. We shared a room - and some hot times - during my cousin's bachelor party weekend. My wife was present for the wedding, but that didn't stop us from finding time to be alone. Even now, more than a decade afterwards, we remain in touch.

I still live in Annapolis. My soon-to-be ex-wife does not. Greg has risen through the ranks and is now a commander in the U.S. Navy. He's been deployed just about everywhere but will soon return to USNA to help take charge of the wrestling program.

When he phoned a couple of weeks ago, I posed the obvious question. "Any interest in moving in with me?" 

Greg chuckled. I could hear the smile in his voice. "Yes," he said. "I can't wait."