Bringing Out Wesley Crane

A few years ago, my hometown experienced a boom caused by the opening of a large machine factory. I was working for Bill Shivley, an amiable old fellow of little talent and less ambition, who ran the real estate firm his father had started more than thirty years before. Bill hired a new salesman to help handle the increased workload, and he asked me to show the new man the ropes.

The first time I saw Wesley Crane my cock involuntarily thickened. His handsome face had strong, masculine features and a swarthy complexion, giving him a rugged appearance. But his disposition was darker than his complexion and his shapely lips rarely smiled. He had an air of confidence about him that boarded on cockiness, and he moved with force and authority. People noticed when Wesley Crane walked by. He was not tall, 5'8" or so, but even in a suit you could discern a powerful build.

When Wes introduced his fiancée at the firm's annual Fourth of July picnic, I began to understand the cause of his sour moods. Maryann had a dark beauty, but her expression never changed from bored disdain. She and Wes apparently took little pleasure in each other, and office gossip had it that Wes was more than pissed when Maryann postponed the wedding they'd had planned for Christmas.

The following spring was a big one for me. I passed the brokers' exam and opened my own office. I bought a house in one of the new upscale developments in town, and Jonathan, a new love interest, entered my life.

Soon after, Wes and Maryann married and bought the house next to mine. We greeted each other but we certainly weren't neighborly.

With the arrival of summer, Jonathan and I made full use of our patio. We heard arguments from next door that increased in volume and frequency as the summer wore on. Wes sought escape by participating in sports of all kinds with his buddies. It seemed that he was always in the company of men and Jonathan jokingly speculated that he was probably gay.

The friction between Wes and Maryann increased and before they had spent a year in their new home, Maryann packed up and left. Wes rebounded by dating furiously, bringing a different woman home virtually every night for a few weeks, but by the time fall settled in, his social life became less hectic.

Wes and I saw each other only rarely for several months, but late one hot afternoon of the next summer he came over as I was working in my yard. He was dressed only on soft, gray gym shorts and his tanned body glistened with sweat. Our conversation rambled aimlessly and after a few minutes he turned to leave.

"Say," he said turning back, "why don't you and Jonathan come over for a couple of beers?"

"Thanks," I replied, "but I'm hot and sweaty, and I haven't eaten yet . . . and Jonathan and I don't see each other anymore."

"I'm sorry."

The sentiment surprised me. "Thanks," I said again.

"Well," he ventured, "I have a couple of steaks. Come on over for supper in an hour or so. If you don't have anything better to do, that is," he added.

I didn't, and after a brief pause I agreed to go.

In the shower, I began to grow hard as I lathered my cock and balls. Visions of Wes's sweaty torso excited me and, as I fantasized about licking the salt from those impressive pecs and abs, I began to seriously jerk off. The idea that I might be in for other, better pleasures before the night was over was growing in my mind, so I turned the water to cold, rinsed, and toweled off. When my stiffened cock finally relaxed, I got into clean cutoffs and padded next door.

Wes was tending the grill on his patio. Apparently he had not showered: he was wearing the same gray gym shorts and his body still gleamed with sweat. Even the simple movements required in preparing supper made his muscles ripple under his bronzed skin.

We ate our streaks and salads outdoors, but as the sky darkened through orange and red to blue-black, the mosquitoes attacked and we moved indoors. By this time we were talking as if we'd been friends for years. Our conversation took a serious turn.

"Things got rough between Maryann and me at the end," he said. "I don't know why insisted that we get married."

I thought it was time to test the possibilities of my shower fantasies and I began to finger the tip of my cock through the fabric of my shorts. Wes stopped talking and watched what I was doing. I was getting hard and I traced the outline of my cock with the tips of my fingers.

Wes rose from his chair and squatted in front of me. He put his hands on my knees and slid them up toward my crotch. As he gently kneaded my basket, my cock filled and lengthened. The head inched out of the bottom of my shorts. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger before opening the zipper. I lifted my hips off the sofa to facilitate his taking them off me.

"You're big," he said as he lowered his face.

My cock jerked upward when his hot breath passed over its sensitive tip. He closed his mouth, swirled his tongue around my the head if my cock and began to suck in earnest. With each downward movement he took more of my cock into his mouth. He was sucking my big dick with real hunger, letting me lift up and fuck his face.

"Oh, yeah," I moaned as I thrust my hips up to meet his demanding mouth. At one point he slipped his hand under my ass and pressed his middle finger against my pucker. I wriggled and squirmed until we worked it in.

"It's so good. Suck me."

He pressed his finger against my prostate and massaged it hard. I could feel the impending climax grow deep within me. He pulled at my balls with his free hand and slurped more hungrily on my cock.

"I'm cumming, Stud," I cried. "Goddamn!"

I pumped my thick load deep. Wes ground his face against me, his convulsing throat milking me dry. He slowly pulled his finger out of my asshole and loosened his hold on my balls. He squeezed my shaft firmly from base to top and licked the resulting pearly drop from the tip. Finally he lay back on the carpet at my feet, propped himself up on his elbows and looked at me squarely in the face. A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"You're good," I said. "You've done that before."

"Not since sophomore year," he said. "When too many guys started making too many sly remarks I decided to play it straight. God, was I hungry!"

"Did my cum taste good?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing is crotch, "but I can't sit here talking. My cock's gonna explode if I don't get off soon."

He stood in front of me and started to slide his shorts down his legs.

"Let me do that," I said.

He stepped closer and I put my fingers inside the waistband and pulled them down to his ankles. I slid off the sofa cushion to my knee and licked the material of his jock strap, testing for sweat. I eventually tugged it down and his engorged cock sprang up. I leaned back to admire the view.

I held Wes's throbbing hard-on against his stomach so I could lick his low hanging balls in their hairy sack. Wes laid down on his back and spread his legs. The heavy musky aroma emanating from his crotch drove me wild. I knelt over him and lifted his balls to get to his smelly perineum. I was rewarded with an acrid bitterness I'd never known before: the very essence of his maleness. Wes moaned low.

I licked the insides of his meaty thighs until there was no taste of salt left. I moved back to his balls and sucked first one, then the other into my mouth, swirling my saliva until I got all the sweat I could, and I swallowed.

Wes's erection was red and pulsing. "Suck me," he begged. "Make me come."

I began by licking the sensitive underside of his cock. I wrapped my lips around the shaft and slid down its entire length. I slid back up again and held his glans between my lips momentarily.

"Don't tease me," he said. "Do it."

I sucked him in earnest, increasing pressure and speed until I could feel him tense. He rolled us over so I was on my back, his pelvis was above my face. He began fucking my face with long thrusts that were rhythmic and deep. "Take it, Cocksucker," he grunted. "I knew you'd love it."

His breathing soon turned into noisy panting and his thrusts changed into rough, painful jabs. He was beyond responding to my signals to go slower. Soon he tensed his muscles and forced his cock down my throat as deeply as he could. Holding it still, he shot his load into me in forceful jets. His buried cock blocked my breathing and I couldn't taste his semen except for the trace that clung to his shaft as he withdrew.

He rolled onto his back and his muscles relaxed. "God! That was fucking hot," he said.

We returned to our seats, he on his easy chair and I on the sofa. We sat without talking for a while. "How about another beer?" Wes finally asked.

"Sure," I replied. "I need something."

I watched the perfect spheres of his ass rise and fall as he walked into the kitchen.

When he returned, he handed me the familiar amber bottle and sat beside me on the sofa. I put the mouth of the cold bottle to my lips and took a long, refreshing swig.

"So, you don't want to be queer?" I asked.

"I wanted the sex but not the label. Women don't turn me off, but this is what I want." He reached over and took hold of my cock and manipulated it to full erection.

Without releasing his grip, he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. Our tongues darted and explored before he broke away and whispered, "Let's go to the bedroom."

He stood, chugged the last of his beer, and moved down the hall. I followed a few paces behind, admiring him as he moved.

His bed looked like it hadn't been made for days. His male aroma greeted me as I lay across the rumpled sheets.

Wes took my head in his strong hands, kissed me roughly on my mouth and rolled me onto my back, resting the weight of his body on top of me. I spread my legs. He positioned his hard cock so that its head was pressing just behind my balls. As he began to push with his hips I lifted my feet and linked my ankles above his back. Now he had the freedom to do what he wanted. I positioned his cock head against my hole and he pressed it through the rubbery opening. Once inside he began to push in deeper.

"It hurts," I said. "Do you have any lube?"

He pulled out, took a tube from the drawer of the night table, and worked some lube up my ass with his fingers. When I nodded, he took his fingers out, spread the residual lube on his shaft and pushed his hard rod back inside.

He began an aggressive fucking rhythm, going deeper with each thrust, coming out each time, stretching my opening with his fat cock head. I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts and moved my butt in little circles to feel his hardness in every part of my hole. Out and in, harder and faster, he filled me with his meat.

My asshole stretched. My abs tensed. My cock hardened.

I began thrashing my head from side to side, groaning with each of Wes's forceful thrusts. "Oh, yes! Fuck me."

His big balls bounced against my butt, churning up a new load of juice. His fucking became almost brutal and lifted me to a frenzied pitch of excitement. I grabbed roughly at his broad back and rotated my hips against his onslaught, hoping to return pleasure for pleasure.

I could feel the first twitches of climax beginning deep in my body. Suddenly, Wes arched his back, jabbed deeply and barked, "I'm cumming . . . up your man cunt."

He held his pulsing cock deep in me until it stopped its pumping, then fell on top of me, breathing deeply. The climax that had been building in me began to ebb once his fucking stopped. I could feel his cock lose its length and thickness and hardness.

After his breathing eased, Wes raised himself and gazed into my eyes. "It has never been that good for me," he said. "Ever."

Until that day, Wes barely gave me a nod, and the irony that his cock was now up my ass struck me as funny. I couldn't help laughing.

"What's funny?" he asked. He looked completely bewildered. I laughed even more and hugged him tightly against my chest.

"Nothing," I whispered in his ear. "It's only that you made me very happy just now."

He popped his cock head out of my ass and lay beside me.

"I owe you an apology." He spoke to the ceiling. "I've always been pretty shitty to you. I lived in an anti-gay funk and I'm sorry about that."

"Apology accepted," I said lightly, and I kissed him on the lips.

Without breaking our kiss, I rolled Wes over onto his back. I lifted my head slightly and began licking his lips. I held his head in my hands as I kissed his face. I nibbled below his stubbly chin. From his Adam's apple I moved my mouth across his chest.

The salt I licked from his unwashed body made me hungry for more. His skin was smooth and lightly haired, the underlying muscles firm. As I began licking his armpit, he moved his arm outward and turned slightly. Only a wispy tuft of hair grew there and I licked and sucked it clean.

I kissed across his broad chest, buried my face in his left armpit and again licked away all traces of sweat. I circled his left nipple with the tip of my tongue and slowly closed my lips over it to suck and nibble it to sensitive erection.

As I sucked, Wes began making little moaning sounds deep in his throat. His stomach was rising and falling under me in waves. Each time I moved to a new area of concentration he would shiver and groan.

I tongued the firm abs that defined his washboard stomach and traced the side muscles that laced over his ribs. I kissed the tan line that divided flesh from flesh; public golden tan from private creamy white. I licked the tiny curls that grew from his naval, the genesis of the hairline that penciled downward and flared out into his thick pubic bush.

Placing my hands under his ass, I lifted it into the air for the second time that evening and again licked his hairy perineum. My nose jostled his testicles and I breathed in the shitty scent of his unwashed ass. I licked and tugged at the hairs that grew there before working my way toward his hole. When the tip of my tongue finally touched that sensitive spot, he gasped out loud. Again and again I tongued his hole. I spread his ass cheeks and stabbed his tight hole with my tongue until it opened wet and shining from all the probing.

I lowered his ass and told him to roll over onto his stomach. He did and rested his head on crossed arms. I spread his legs apart, enjoying eating his hole from a different angle. He lifted his hips, allowing my tongue deeper penetration. After having so much stimulation, I hoped he was ready for something more.

"Wes," I began.

He anticipated me. "I've never been fucked." It was as if he were talking to himself. "But I want it."

I applied some lubricant to his hole. He tensed involuntarily when I touched his anus, and he contracted his sphincter tightly around my finger as I tried to work some of the lube inside.

"Relax," I whispered. "I'll be careful."

His response was soft and low. "I know," he said.

I placed my cock head against his hole and pushed. Wes tightened and resisted penetration, but I forced my cock head in. "Relax," I repeated and held it still until he was able to do as I asked.

Then I began a slow in and out motion that increased in length and tempo until I reached a rhythm that was good for both of us. I maintained that rhythm for a long time. After a while, Wes began moving his ass up to meet my downward strokes. I increased my speed and the familiar tingle began to radiate from my gut. It grew and intensified.

"I'm gonna cum," I said. "Should I pull out?" I asked.

"No," he answered. "Come in me. I want to experience it all."

Wes began gyrating his hips slightly under me. That was all it took to take me over the edge. I held my cock still and pulsed my load into him. My head grew light with the exhilaration of release. Fucking Wes's man pussy was amazingly hot.

When I pumped the last of my cum into him, I slowly relaxed my body onto his. I rested there momentarily, my senses again totally aware of he man I was with.

I raised my hips slowly until my cock head popped out of him. Wes's hole was pink and glistening, but it closed to a dark slit almost as soon as I was out.

Rolling onto my side, I propped my head on the heel of my hand and surveyed Wes from head to toe. He had rolled onto his back and was watching me. I was taken with his masculine beauty: the thick hair that framed his handsome face, the well muscled torso that looked powerful even in rest, the flaccid cock that lay across his bull balls, the hairy muscular legs, the substantial feet and slender toes.

"Like what you see?" he asked.

"It'll do," I replied.

He smiled at me. "Spend he night?" he asked. "I like waking up with someone in my bed, and in the morning you can show me some more tricks."

"You don't need a teacher," I said as I flicked off the light on the bed table. "All you need is experience."

I nestled close, draping my arm on his chest and my leg across his pelvis, resting my inner thigh on his still sticky cock.