At Scott's House

I was in love with Scott from the first time I saw him. Tall, athletic, a real man's man at work, always full of solid advice, always attired in a crisp dress shirt and a striped tie, with a sort of a post-military haircut, not too short, and blonde, I suppose a dirty blonde, sun-streaked. I knew that he had been in the military for awhile, and there was a ruggedness about him, but he had a kind face, and "handsome" would be an understatement.

Now, he was working with me. We were part of an engineering group. Scott had joined us just last month. His killer smile was disarming, and he had a heavy 5-o'clock shadow, especially on days like today when he seemed to have forgotten to shave, with long-ish sideburns blending into his blonde scruffiness in a way that made my tongue water. He had a happy-go-lucky air about him, and was younger than I was, maybe 37. I was a few years the other side of 40. The first time he rolled up his shirt sleeves and exposed his muscular, sinewy, and lusciously hairy arms, blonde, soft, tantalizing, I literally drooled all over myself. He was just gorgeous, and just exuded masculinity.

My work station was next to his, and he'd usually roll up his sleeves when working at his drafting table. I'd just stare. And sitting at an angle behind him, I'd stare not only at his hairy arms, but also at his trim waist and his utterly fine ass, the drape of his wool trousers outlining it perfectly on the stool where he perched.

"Jim, quit starin' at my ass and get over here a second!" I heard him say, one day. I popped out of my chair and took a look at the mechanical drawing he wanted me to see. The "ass" comment was all in kidding, of course. We were always ribbing one another. As I examined his figures, I felt his hand on my shoulder as I leaned over the drafting table. He then pointed something out and his hairy wrist brushed against mine, causing a shiver to run through me. I almost gasped audibly as he slapped me on the back and thanked me for verifying his numbers.

"Hey, what are you doing tonight? I'm having a few people over for drinks to christen my new house. Why don't you come?" I heard him say. "Quite a place! Overlooks the canyon!" He said. "About 7:00. Can you make it?"

"Of course," I answered. "I'd love to come!" I responded with a little too much enthusiasm, but he just smiled an acknowledgment and slapped me on the back again before he left. I went home feeling like a schoolgirl who was just asked out on a date, even though he was just a colleague, one whom I was sure was straight as an arrow. And he was just excited about his new house. I had no idea who the other guests would be. People from the office, I suppose. It was a Friday afternoon, so I finished up early and dropped by the barber shop and spruced myself up a bit, and went home to shower and change.

Taking a good look at myself as I stepped from the shower, I felt pretty good about the image I saw. I had been workin' out, and my arms were showing it. I noticed as I toweled myself dry that the sun had streaked my brown hair just a bit. I stroked my big cock a few times. It was 8 inches when erect, and all these thoughts of Scott had given it a little rise in the shower. I caressed the coarse stubble on my cheeks, deciding not to shave. And as I ran my fingers through the light dusting of chest hair which gathered more densely between my pecs, I said "Hello handsome" to the image in the mirror, and laughed as I realized how full of myself I was. I donned a pair of jeans and a brightly colored orange dress shirt, leaving the top two buttons unbuttoned, just enough to expose a little chest hair. Oh vanity! And of course, I added a touch of cologne. Just enough.

Enough?! For what!? It's not like I'm goin' on some date! I'm just going to Scott's house, for Pete's sake! I slapped myself on the face and back to reality, took that last vain look in the mirror, grabbed my car keys, and was on my way. I found the place readily enough, up the canyon road. Looked like quite a house, sleek, modern, stucco and glass, and I wondered how he could afford it. I rang the bell. Scott answered the door, and my jaw dropped. There he stood, in the usual gray dress trousers but now wearing a tight-fitting, dark blue golf shirt squeezed around two vein-popping biceps, the musculature and hairiness of his forearms now fully on display, as were, to my utter delight, thick swirls of blonde chest hair billowing forth over the open collar of his shirt. First time I had seen him without a tie! Oh! The hairiness and muscles that suddenly framed his beautiful smile were overwhelming!

"Jim! Come on in!" he said, beaming. Scott grabbed my arm and guided me inside, showed me through a large room with a vaulted ceiling and stone fireplace, pointed to the incredible view of the valley below, and then walked me to the bar and offered me a drink. I just stared at the silky blonde hairiness of his gorgeous arms as he stirred my drink, the sinewy muscles of his wrists, the swirls of hair at the crooks of his elbows, and I continued to stare at his arms as he pointed to the patio outside flanking an elegant pool. "Come on outside. You remember Bob, don't you?" he said as a member of the party walked up and shook my hand.

"Yes, I do. You're with those geeky architects on the third floor, aren't you, Bob?" He nodded, laughed, and said "Yes, good to see you again, but I'm afraid I can't stay. I just dropped by for a minute to see Scott's new house. Quite a place, isn't it? But, I've gotta run and pick up a friend at the airport." He winked at Scott, which was a bit unsettling because I happened to know that Bob was gay. And I was absolutely sure that Scott was not. Bob made a polite exit, and I asked Scott, "So, who else is coming?"

"Oh, well, it was just going to be a few friends, but Sally and Ted just called and cancelled. Baby-sitter issues, I guess. And Bob had to leave. So, I guess that means it's just you and me, buddy. I thought we'd grill some steaks, maybe take a swim later."

The sudden thought of seeing this man shirtless and wet was more than I could handle. I could feel my cock stiffening inside my jeans. "You mind if I have another drink?"

Scott just smiled compliantly and took my glass and his to fill them again. Then he called out . . . "How about joining me in a glass of red wine, instead? It's the good stuff. I've just opened a bottle."

I replied in the affirmative and decided to make myself at home. I kicked off my shoes, rolled up my jeans to my calf muscles and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in the water. It was a hot day, still, though the sun was setting. Scott returned, carrying two goblets of red wine and, deftly, also the bottle. "Good idea!" he said as he handed me the wine, kicked off his shoes, and started to sit down next to me.

Then he stopped. "Wait a minute, it's just us guys, heck . . . ." Suddenly he unbuckled and unzipped, and was slipping off his expensive slacks, draping them over a chair, and then sitting down next to me in his light blue boxer underwear and hanging his feet into the water.

I could not believe what had just happened, and did my best not to stare. We sat at the corner of the pool, at an angle to one another, and he raised his glass and hollered out "I hereby christen this new house of mine! Hooray!" It was so cute. I laughed, and raised my glass as well. We both drank, and looked at one another. His free hand slapped my leg as he toasted. I would have done the same, but the blonde hairiness of his bare leg would have been too much for me. I could not have pulled my hand away. But, his own hand then pinched my leg playfully, and lingered there.

I looked at him. He looked right into my eyes, and, slowly, a bit tentatively, he began to caress my leg. We both nervously took a sip of wine. And then, in very military-like attack fashion, he just came right out with it, "You know, Jim, I wasn't kidding today at the office. You WERE staring at my ass, weren't you?"

I stammered, embarrassed, but before I could say anything, Scott smiled, put his finger to my lips, and then leaned over and kissed me on the lips, a long, sweet, tender kiss. As he pulled away, he gently brushed the locks of hair from my forehead and put his finger to my lips again as I started to speak. "Ssssshhhhh!" he uttered, and I just sat there, stunned, as his hand dropped to unbutton the next button on my shirt, then the next, and the next, fingering my chest hair before leaning over to kiss and lick my chest where the hair gathers densely under the musculature of my pecs, and then briefly to encircle one nipple with his lips.

I moaned, and stammered "I thought you were totally strai . . . ." But, he put his fingers to my lips again to quiet me, and then looked intently into my eyes for a moment before suddenly pulling his golf shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and sitting there shirtless, muscled, gloriously hairy and just in his underwear, next to me. I had never been this close to such an extraordinarily beautiful body in all my life. He took my hand and brought it to his lips, kissed it sweetly, and then brought it to his hairy chest. I sighed, completely mesmerized, as I watched and felt my fingers lose themselves in the thick blonde curls of hair covering his hard muscular pecs. I took a sip of wine, more like a gulp, and lost myself in the moment, bending toward him and burying my face in that thick mass of blonde chest hair. Eventually he lifted my face to his and kissed me, again, and took my hand and placed it on his hard, hairy abs. I fingered his treasure trail up and down repeatedly as we kissed, repeatedly, and then noticed that his light blue boxers were the kind with the little snap enclosure at the top. I fingered it.

"Go ahead," he whispered. I unsnapped, and pulled the cloth of his already tented boxers downward. He was incredible: stiff, throbbing, 8 or 9 inches, straight as an iron rod, quite thick, and engulfed in a profuse sea of crotch hair, thick, blonde, silky. Scott slid his boxers down and off, kicked them into the pool, and looked at me. Knowing full well that I had been staring at his ass every damned day, that I was caught at this very moment somewhere between deep love and obsessive worship, he brought his hairy muscular arm to my face and gently caressed my cheek, and then whispered "It's OK, Jim," upon which my feelings of lust and man-worship immediately caused me to lean down, and to lower my lips to his throbbing manhood, going down on him, my lips and tongue and scruffy face making love to his giant cock and balls as only a man in love can do. My right hand, of course, never left his hairy chest, unless it was momentarily to caress those beautiful hairy arms that I had lusted over for a month. Every touch, every curl, every thick swirl or silky strand, rendered me wholly incapable of rational thought. I was in a trance, exhilarating, blissful, as if I were uttering one long, unending and desperately passionate sigh.

Just as I was ever-so-gently running the soft tip of his hard cock against the unshaven stubble of my face, causing him to quiver, he stopped me, wanting it all to last. Scott unbuckled my belt, unzipped my jeans, and I slipped them off with my boxers right into the pool and let them float away. He stroked my big cock awhile, and then said, smiling, "You know, I really did know that you were staring at my ass." I blushed. And, as we were still dry except for our legs, he stood up, with mischief in his eyes, right there on the cement steps of the pool, and turned around. His ass was level with my face. Oh my! I had never seen such a beautifully hairy ass in all my days! Covered all over in silky strands of golden blond hair gathering thickly and tantalizingly in his ass crack, almost as densely as did his chest hair between his muscular pecs, but more delicately, invitingly. Oh, slurp!

I couldn't resist. I parted the soft globes of his hairy ass with my hands and lowered my scruffy face to his lusciously hairy ass crack. MMmmmmm! Up and down, from the hairy backs of his legs and the hairiness of his inner thighs, to the small tufts of hair beginning to waft up onto his lower back, and through the golden valley of thick blonde swirls of hair running the length of his hairy crack, I licked. My tongue probed, fighting through the swirls of hair to find Scott's sweet manhole, encircling, and then penetrating. Scott moaned as my tongue entered him, and bent forward, spreading his legs a bit. I kept at it until he just couldn't take it any more.

I stopped, and he looked at me as if he had never had such an experience. I gulped down a large swig of wine and, just as I set down my glass, he jumped into the pool and pulled me in with him. It was like boys playing, splashing each other in the warm water, dunking each other, each of us playfully grabbing for the other's still throbbing cock under the water, each of us laughing, deliriously happy. Suddenly, Scott pulled me to him, embraced me in his strong hairy arms, his chest hair gorgeously wet and matted down across his hard pecs, our big cocks grinding into each other as we kissed. Then he said, "Bob thinks you are in love with me. Is that true?"

"Bob is an observant fellow," I replied. "Yes, Scott, I am in love with you." He smiled, and kissed me, this time long and hard, and then put his finger to my lips again as he said, "Those are all the words I need to hear." Taking my hand, he led me up the steps and out of the pool. We dried one another off with towels from a pool-side cabinet, and it was glorious watching his thick blonde curls billow out from his beautiful pink skin as I rubbed him down. It had grown dark, but the lights were on, and we each carried our glasses of wine . . . and the bottle . . . into the house, and to Scott's bedroom.

The eroticism of that first kiss suddenly renewed itself, like the feeling one has when walking into a strange, new men's locker room as a visitor, or simply seeing a shirtless hairy hunk run by on the road. What a masculine room this was! Suddenly realizing where I was, I just put my arms around Scott and said "Oh Scott! This is like a dream. Make love to me. Please make love to me." He smiled that glorious smile of his, and I could hear the strains of soft, romantic music drifting in from the other room as he pulled back the covers and laid me onto the sheets of his bed.

He stood there a moment, the moonlight streaming in through the window, just towering above me, tall, muscular, wonderfully hairy, stroking his cock a few times as he gazed down at me. He knew that his hairiness was a huge turn-on for me , and he purposely ran his fingers through his chest hair time and again as I looked up at him. I looked into his eyes and silently mouthed the words "Fuck me," as if he didn't have that in mind. But, I wanted him so much. He lowered his hairy body on top of me, held himself in a sort of push up position as I caressed his hairy arms, then lunged forward and brushed his thick chest hair across my face time and again. He whispered to me, "Jim, I'm big. This will hurt." I smiled and shook my head "no" as if to say to him "It doesn't matter." He kissed me, deeply, passionately, nuzzling my scruffy cheeks with his own, as his fingers reached down and massaged my manhole to loosen me up. Then he placed himself between my legs, pushing them effortlessly onto his shoulders as he placed the tip of his huge cock at the opening to my quivering hole. He lubed thoroughly, and massaged my hole a bit more, telling me to relax. Somehow, I think I was so much in love and in such a deep trance that relaxing just wasn't going to be a problem. And it wasn't. He shoved his long, hard prick into my manhole with all the ease of a sweet kiss. And no, it wasn't just fucking. He made love to me in the most gentle and loving way one can ever be penetrated. It was a blissful union, the man I loved so intensely and now suddenly inside of me, part of me, his strong hairy body hovering above me like a child's toy above a crib. "I love you, Scott. I love you . . ." And as I said it for the third time, and reached up to caress his stubbled cheek in the midst of his hard, rhythmic pumping, he arched his back. I gently tugged on his thick chest hair, and felt the joy of his hot sweet man-cum spurting up into my ass, flooding it, stream after stream after stream. He seemed limitless. My own cum seemed to splatter simultaneously all over the both of us, and he collapsed his hairy body onto mine, gasping for breath, laughing, kissing. Wrapping his powerful, hairy arms around me we kissed again and again and again and again, and my one last utterance of "I love you" brought a response: "Well, Jim, it does take two, you know." The power of the moment was palpable as he wrapped his strong, hairy arms around me. What is not remarkable at that moment is that I cried. Tears of utter happiness. I am such a soft touch, a masculine man with the sudden emotions of a schoolgirl. No, what I found to be so remarkable was Scott's response. He cried, too, this rugged man, this strong, muscled, hairy-chested stud, dripping with testosterone and masculinity. He cried, too.