Rodney

Changes

So much was going on, and yet my life with Rodney was increasingly simple.

For one, it was fascinating to see how the various relationships evolved.

Prior to getting with Rodney, Rodney had been a quiet, almost backwardly shy, guy.  When I paid attention, he almost seemed embarrassed because of how big his dick was, and generally kept it from view, which almost extended to him staying quiet and in the background.

When I first managed to get with him, Rodney was quietly flattered, as he later told me.  As he met Tony and others, his confidence somehow grew.  And as Tony pushed him, Rodney would quietly come out of his shell, but really only occasionally.

At his core, Rodney was quiet.  He was also horny.  It was almost like he had been hiding his massive dick for so long that he wanted to make up for lost time. 

The whole thing was interesting for me as well.  My first had been Brent.  I am sure it was as much a curiosity thing as anything.  Expanding to Brent and Elmer had kind of helped me come out in ways I didn’t even know existed.

So I suppose it wasn’t really all that surprising when Rodney gradually got closer to Brent.

This may be too difficult of a subject to get into here.  But so many guys seemed motivated by so many different things.  And the bigger the cock, the wider the range of those different things.

Tony was a freak.  With me, with his own boys, with his wife, with my mom.  His boys mostly just followed his lead.  Probably worshipped him, even as they grew and developed lives of their own.

For Rodney, I was not only the first guy who had admired him (as opposed to made fun of how big his dick was mostly because they were jealous), I also seemed like his first friend.

Rodney was a single child, living just with his mom.  He genuinely seemed embarrassed the first time I sucked him, but almost because he had had so little experience with friends, he seemed to accept that that was the way things should be.

As time developed, I also turned into his job, and later his roommate.  He ran with both, in his quiet way.

He went from being embarrassed about his body to increasingly confident to show it off, initially it seemed mostly to me.  He really was so horny, and almost anything, or anybody, could get him wanting to have sex with me.  And from my end, he was the first one, it seemed, to really open up, and reveal himself more and more to me, so the closer I could get the more peaceful I felt.  There really was nothing as good as having him all the way in me, with him breeding me with his sweet cum.

As he got more confident, and guys became more openly aware of how well endowed he was, admiration, and even jealousy, were things Rodney dealt with better and better.  And at times when so many guys were trying to figure out what they wanted, Rodney was increasingly happy to show that he had what he wanted.

Rodney almost joked:  “I’m like an artist, and you’re what I’m creating, with the help of all these crazy hot guys, some who just want to get off, some who just want to show what power they can flex over you, some who want to show off, and some who want to explore.”  He’d laugh:  “You’re like my palette and canvas, and it’s almost like my cum is the paint.”

Fuck.  I loved him more and more.

Rodney increasingly showed off his dick in the showers, at the gym, almost anywhere.  It was increasingly easy for guys to get him horny, and get him to a place where they could watch, and if lucky, get involved, with him fucking me.  And those occasions were increasingly at least two load events.

Damn.  His pants increasingly had a hole in his right pocket, where I was more than welcome to put my hand, or pull out his cock and suck it.  Seriously, anywhere.  He was always flattered.

And he increasingly seemed to feel the need to help others be what he would call more honest about their sexuality:  “Hell.  I’ll bet even those who pretend to be straight wish they had what we have, Jeff.”  And he’d kiss me, which almost never stopped there.

My mom increasingly saw us fuck.  Others at the gym could easily get us fucking, as he increasingly didn’t even put his jock on anymore, even if that meant all others could easily see his long fat cockhead sticking out of his gym shorts, and even more once he’d go hard.  The weight room was easy, as were the dressing rooms, the bathrooms, the showers…

“I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how happy I am to get others horny in public, and get them to wonder about whether they aren’t at least as gay as we are.  Fuck.  So many of these guys are way too uptight.  Way too many never have any relationship at all other than the one girl they marry, if that, and even then probably way too quickly.  Way too many of them don’t even ask themselves if they’re actually satisfied with their lives, let alone with their sex.”

And going that far always resulted in him hard, and me needing him in me even more than usual, no matter how many times I had been fucked that day.

Even that was curious, as it changed.  First it seemed like daily sex was a lot.  But increasingly it was clear that it usually took, on average, about 10 minutes for a guy to cum, and Rod could increasingly get philosophical with me, no matter how odd that seemed to those who only knew him as a quiet guy:  “You know, as a work matter that means it shouldn’t be that hard to get 6 loads in you an hour.  Shit.  And multiply that by 24:  we really should at least go occasionally for a day of at least 144 loads.”  And of course that would make him hard, and we’d fuck again.

And he had t-shirts made for both of us, with 144 on the front of his, and 144 on the back of mine.

Materialistically, Rod was a simple guy.  Our house was small but cozy, and plenty adequate for our needs.  Clothes-wise, he never really cared to stand out that much, so of course I followed his lead.  And sexually, there was increasingly no need for him to be out there.  He and I were both so satisfied on that front that there really was no need to brag about anything at all.

But there was always at least one curious point.  At first I thought it was when he had me help him get a cockring, and he had me get a ring put in at the base of my ass.  He’d laugh:  “Our wedding rings.”  And then once we both got used to those, which he even got small diamonds inserted in, he went one step further:  he shaved, or had me shave me, and he shaved me.  And he insisted we both get very small tattoos:  He had his name tattooed right on the right side of my hole.  And he had my name tattooed right at the base of his shaft, just barely above where the cockring rested:  “Now we’re at least clear on what belongs to who,” he’d smile and say.

Neither of us really outwardly showed as gay.  Even that turned philosophical for him:  “We should be as good an example as we can.”  As he laughed:  “Except of course when I need to shoot in you.”

“More guys need more encouragement to express their sexuality.”  And he’d continue his adorable quiet laugh:  “Too bad we can’t require every guy at some early point to at least have sex with a guy once.  So many dudes are so damn highstrung…”

And again he’d get horny.  And again we’d fuck.