Vitruvian Man

When I met Bob Hough, I thought he was incredibly sexy. Bob was six-foot-four-inches tall and in my opinion, he was incredibly good-looking. Bob had the look of the more masculine movie stars from a bygone era, and could definitely be described as a Robert Mitchum lookalike. We met while doing an army stint together. In South Africa, military service for white guys was compulsory in the sixties, seventies, eighties, and only ended in the early nineties when it became clear that the apartheid era was finally coming to an end.

Not wanting to bore you with all the details of the national service requirements, let me briefly report that both Bob and I had done our compulsory two year stretch in the late nineteen-seventies. Regrettably, at the government’s discretion, further three-month camps thereafter, were often an additional requirement. It was on one of these camps that we met. Luckily, being self-employed, I submitted a lawyer’s letter to explain that my business would be destroyed as a result of my absence and therefore, fortunately only ended up doing three weeks of the stint before my appeal was accepted. Bob, however, had to endure the full three month camp.

During my three week spell Bob and I became rather good buddies. We shared the same music taste and both loved art.

Upon my departure we swapped telephone numbers, promising to get in touch once Bob had finished his army camp.

I was delighted four months later when I got a call from Bob. Consequently, I invited him to a lunch at my home.

I was very interest to see what my boyfriend would make of him. I was sure that Peter, my lover, would be enamoured with Bob. Apart from Bob’s good-looks, Bob also had the most beautiful large masculine feet and hands. For Peter who had a complete hands and foot fetish, I knew that Bob would totally blow Peter’s mind.

When Bob, Doreen, his pregnant wife, and their son Garth arrived for Sunday lunch, Peter’s eyes were practically spinning in his head. My assumption had proved to be totally correct.

I cannot say that it was a memorable visit. Firstly, there was a definite tension between Bob and his wife. Secondly, their three-year-old son was a real brat, but fortunately, finally fell asleep. As Bob and I took a tour of my garden, Bob told me that his was miffed about Doreen’s pregnancy, because they had agreed that they would only have one child.

Over the following twenty-two years before Bob emigrated, we remained friends. We never saw a great deal of one another, except for in final two years before Bob left the country. We did, however, get together at least four times a year.

***

At this point, I need to give a brief history about Bob’s life over this period I knew him:

Shortly after his first visit to my home, Bob built the most spectacular house. Because Bob was the sales manager for a firm that sold cement, coupled with the fact that his dad and two of his three brothers were builders, enabled Bob to build his home for a fraction that it would normally cost.

He only lived in the home for two years before selling it. This came about when he and Doreen got divorced, after he had started having an affair with one of his sales ladies.

Bob next bought a very large smallholding in a very remote place, and again his dad and brothers were at hand to build another wonderful home for him and Cindy, the saleslady whom he had now married.

Two years on, Cindy told him that she wanted to have a child, which Bob agreed to. After their daughter was born, the couple made an unusual decision. Bob, by now, was tired of corporate life and so they decided that Cindy would continue working, while Bob stayed home and became house husband in order to look after their daughter.

Fortuitously, Cindy took over Bob’s old job and by his admission, did a far better job than he had ever done. In fact, Cindy was so good at her job that years later, because of the incredible reputation she had built up, she was offered a job abroad, which is what resultantly led to their emigration.

By this time, Peter and I had moved to a lovely double storey home. I had also given up my landscaping business and become a full-time artist. What made our new home especially ideal was that it had a brilliant flatlet above the double garage, which I was now able to use as my studio.

In the first few years of his daughter’s life, Bob seldom visited me because he knew that young kids were an anathema to me. All our socializing, therefore, took place at his home. Naturally, we all contributed to the food that was consumed at these gatherings.

***

A few years later when his daughter began attending primary school, however, I began to see a lot more of Bob. In fact, he would often pop in at least twice a week. Bob loved my studio and we spent many happy hours painting, listening to music, and indulging in another passion we both shared, namely smoking weed.

After dropping his daughter off at school Bob would arrive at my home, before leaving a few hours later to pick his daughter up from school.

One day Bob arrived at my home and made a very strange request. Because Bob wanted to do a series of paintings of the naked form, he wanted me to take nude pictures of him. Bob wanted to pose in the famous Da Vinci stance of the Vitruvian Man, and take shots of him from a multitude of angles. Bob was aware that I had been given a fancy camera for my birthday, and really wanted great photos to work from. Uncomfortable as I was, I must, nevertheless, admit that I was also rather excited.

By the time I had I had set up my camera on its tripod, Bob was naked and assuming X posture for the photo shoot.

As I looked at him, memories from our army stint camp came flooding back to me. I have already written about his good looks, but now have to tell you about Bob’s incredible genital package.

Bob had a substantial circumcised cock. The doctor who had performed the surgery, however, had not butchered him and Bob still had ample skin on his shaft, which nestled sumptuously against the glans of his dick. His knob was not overly thick, but generously long. The most impressive aspect of his crotch, however, was Bob’s nutsack. Unlike most guys who have small crinkly balls, Bob had a low hanging ballbag that looked like a smooth velvet pouch containing two orbs, which were the size of duck eggs. His scrotum was a thing of total wonder.

I really took my time with the photographic session as Bob contently held his pose. I zoomed in frequently to take close-ups of various parts of his physique, and have to admit that his crotch also fell into this assortment. I also did close-ups of his hands and feet.

Half an hour later, after I had also snapped Bob from the back and also from both sides of his body, I removed my camera from the tripod and suggested taking a few upward shots as I lay on the floor. Bob was very happy with this idea.

An interesting aspect of the session was that Bob’s dick kept alternating between being flaccid and semi-erect.

Once I was finally done, I got to my knees and looked up at him. Bob had a strange, almost lustful expression on his face as I did and it was almost as if his eyes were encouraging to take the next step.

Emboldened by this, I said, “Jesus, Bob, you have the most magnificent balls I have ever seen.”

The next words he spoke almost gave me a mini heart attack. “You can touch them if you like, Mike.”

Without pause, I reached up and encased the treasure in my right hand. The skin of his nutsack felt like luxurious satin. As I commenced fondling his nuts, Bob’s cock became fully erect.

‘Christ,’ I thought. ‘I cannot believe this is happening.’

With his dick-head now an inch away from my mouth, I decided to go for broke. Leaning in, my lips nestled on his glans. My fears about this boldness were quickly assuaged when Bob emitted a low groan of contentment.

After my mouth had absorbed the entire dick-head, my tongue entered the fray and commenced a caressing massage. As my action intensified, Bob’s moans grew louder.

I was in no hurry and determined to take my time, a sentiment that Bob happily seemed to share.

After a while, I decided to take things to the next level as I now began to lick and suck Bob’s balls. From his ever-escalating noises, I knew that this new development was definitely meeting with his approval. Bob’s nuts were so large, that I could only fit one in my mouth at a time.

Upon returning to Bob’s shaft, my pulsating lips kept pulling him ever deeper into my mouth. As I did so, my right hand clamped onto the base of Bob’s shaft and my left hand kept fondling his nutsack. Once my mouth had reached the halfway mark down his shaft, I dallied for a short while, before once again returning to his balls.

On my next visit to Bob’s cock, I was determined to go all the way. I had never attempted taking such a long dick down my throat before, but was prepared to die trying. To my amazement, a few minutes later, when my nose was pressed flat against his musky pubic hairs, I felt very proud of myself.

By now, Bob was not only making sounds but also verbalizing his excitement with, “Fuck, yeah’s,” and various other horny blasphemous expletives. In addition, his beautiful large hands now also took control of my head, clearly signalling that he now wanted to take command of the situation. In acquiescence, my hands then moved from his crotch to his butt cheeks.

In a leisurely fashion, Bob commenced his slow, in and out motion, as his hips came to life. There was nothing frantic about his approach and I never felt starved for air. I was also in such a state of ecstasy by now that I would not have minded suffocating.

On and on, Bob deliriously continued on his erotic journey. The frequent contraction and relaxation of his butt cheeks was awesome, as my hands firmly clamped onto them. The bliss just seemed endless.

Although Bob allowed my mouth to revisit his incredible balls twice more, it soon became apparent that he was determined to head for the finishing line.

Gradually, Bob began to gather momentum as the sounds from him grew ever louder. As his pace increased, I couldn’t wait to experience the bounty from the most impressive nuts I had ever seen.

When Bob’s body finally began to shudder, I experienced the most spectacular ejaculation I had ever experienced. The deluge of spunk was so incredible that try as I might, I was totally unable to swallow it all.

After I arose, my t-shirt was covered with cum and muck. Jokingly, Bob then ran his hand over his dick before smearing the additional muck on my garment.

“That was the best blowjob I have ever had,” Bob then announced with a smile.

Before I could even respond, Bob excitedly asked to see all the photos I had taken. After extracting the data chip from my camera, I inserted it into my computer. After naming the new file ‘Vitruvian’, I invited Bob to sit down and peruse the photos.

Bob was really pleased as he studied all the shots and kept complimenting me on the job I had done. After making his selection, my printer was then put through its paces.

Next, Bob and I had a joint before we got busy on our canvasses while listening to music.

When Bob later announced that he needed to collect his daughter from school, I walked him to his vehicle as I had always done.

As he was about to drive off, he said, “Well, I suppose you and I need to get back to our normal lives.”

Reflecting on what had happened as I stood in my studio, I was concerned that the Vitruvian encounter could affect our future friendship. I was under no illusion that what had happened was simply an anomaly, a glorious happenstance that I would always remember.

I had no intention of telling Peter about the blowjob because that would simply have driven him out of his mind with envy. I did, however, decide to tell him about the Vitruvian photo session. In this manner, I figured that my guilt would at least be somewhat assuaged.

When Peter arrived home late that afternoon, I related the events of the photo session to him. Peter was so gobsmacked and excited that I thought he was going into cardiac arrest.

“Please… tell me… that you have the pictures?” Peter stammered.

With a half an hour to go before dinner, I replied, “Go up to my studio and click on the Vitruvian icon on my computer.”

After I summoned Peter for dinner thirty minutes later, his face was totally flushed upon joining me.

“Bob is not a man,” he exclaimed, before concluding, “He’s a fuckin’ god.”

I was very pleased when Bob visited me the following week and everything appeared to be back to normal. As I had suspected, nothing ever happened between us again.

I was very sad a year later when I went to the airport to say goodbye to him and his family as they were about to emigrate.

I really miss Bob. The occasional email from him always brings a smile to my face.