At some point during the Climber Cooldown Deluxe, something shifted.
Not in a dramatic way really. More like… Mason just stopped holding himself so tight back there and I enventually started working my tongue with full force, reaching deeper and deeper.
When I was not completely lost in his hairy asscrack, I sometimes took time to gaze at his beautifull body. Less tension. Less bracing. His breathing slowed, deeper now, matching the steady hiss of the steam around us.
“Bro,” he murmured, voice low and relaxed, “this is crazy. I didn’t know you could feel this good just from…”
I almost laughed:
“Your butthole?”
“Yeah, that,” he said. “Damn....”
Which tracked. Completely.
He was warm (obviously), but honestly not warmer than the sauna itself. At some point I even thought "Wow, he’s finally the same temperature as the room". Like the universe had achieved balance!
Then the door opened.
A random guy, tight towel wrapped around his powerfull waist, stepped into the sauna room.
Shit shit shit!
I quickly jerked back, wiping my mouth discreetly. I had Mason's juice all over it.
The stranger nodded casually at us, and sat on the bench across from us like he didn't see me tongue deep in Mason a few seconds ago. Maybe he didn't have time I guess.
Mason noticed instantly.
“Yo bud'',” he said, turning his head slightly to me. “Why’d you stop?”
I leaned back a bit, suddenly very aware of the stranger’s presence, of how this probably looked:
“Uh, someone came in.”
Mason frowned, genuinely confused:
"So what?"
"Don't want it to be awkward."
“Awkward how? It felt great.” Mason was visibly annoyed by the interrumption. "Yo man, do you mind if we go Cooldown Deluxe right here?"
Great. Excellent choice of words Jonas*...*
I could feel my face heating up more than the sauna.
The guy across from us didn’t say anything, just sat there, minding his business, closing his eyes and resting his head on he wall, but I still panicked internally like I’d been caught doing something illegal.
“I'll keep going,” I said quickly, lowering my voice.
“Come on,” Mason said easily. “I was close to something back there.”
So I did. But I shifted fully into instructor mode, hands staying firmly on his upper back, slow, neutral pressure, textbook technique. No jokes. No extra commentary. Just helping a tired climber unwind and keeping it formal.
Mason twisted to face me again, the flush on his cheeks deepening:
"Why’d you stop tonguing my hole bro?" His whisper was ragged, almost pissed.
No no no!
The newcomer glanced over, and I had to facepalm.
Mason... come on!
I mean, yeah it was my fault. But the dude clearly didn't have any limits.
"Later... that's a private thing." I tried to explain.
"Didn’t realize Norwegians were shy," he added, louder now, daring me.
The challenge in his voice sent a jolt through me: this wasn’t just confusion anymore. He knew. And he wasn’t running. Something clearly shifted in the way he was talking to me.
Five minutes passed and Mason was not happy about the lack of anal stimulation. His cock had visibly shrunk. I heard the guy in front of us standing, his feet making the wood creak.
He winked at me as he shut the door.
Well shit...
I was about to go full french-kissing Mason's butthole when he flipped and stood up, his half-hard cock almost brushing my cheek in the process:
"Let's go bro."
"Wait, now?"
"Yeah man, been there for too long already. Feels like I'm gonna pass out."
He was right.
We have been there for at least 20 minutes and the temperature was set pretty high. No wonder he was feeling a bit lost with all the extra rimming.
Not without a pang of remorse, I followed Mason and his dangling penis out of the sauna to the now almost empty locker rooms. We got dressed, and I could tell my gym buddy's expression had definitely changed. Shit... had I gone too far?
I was so close to make him feel some prostatic climax. At least that's what he was saying back then. Hopefully we could try that too another time.
After the sauna, we took our time getting ready to leave. Mason was quieter than usual. Not withdrawn exactly, just… less loud in the way he normally was.
When we reached the exit, he stopped and looked at me for a second longer than necessary.
“Yo,” he said.
There was something different in his gaze too. More serious. It realy caught me off guard:
“Thanks again,” he added. “For today. For everything.”
Before I could reply, he pulled me into a hug. A proper one. Solid, full-frame, arms wrapping around me like he meant to keep me there for a moment.
I felt completely swallowed by him, in the best possible way.
Safe. Grounded. Like whatever had been heavy in his head hadn’t followed him into that embrace.
“See you soon,” he said quietly, then stepped back.
"Yeah, see you tomorow." I quickly added as he was turning away from me.
I watched him leave with that strange feeling you get when something feels important but you don’t yet know why.
We saw each other again at the next yoga class. And this time… things were different.
Nothing bad happened. That was almost the problem.
The class itself was uneventful. Mason showed up on time, same gym clothes, same calm presence. He followed every instruction carefully. His postures were cleaner than before, his balance noticeably better. He held poses without wobbling, adjusted when I corrected him, breathed steadily like he’d actually been practicing.
From the outside, it was perfect. From the inside, I felt oddly unsettled.
What the fuck is happening to him? Was he sick?
Mason wasn’t extra chatty. Not distant either. Just focused. Serious. Like he was there to work, not to joke or flirt with the idea of being clumsy on purpose. I caught myself watching him more than I should have, trying to read something in his posture, his expression, anything.
After class, just when people were rolling up mats and chatting on their way out, Mason came straight toward me.
“Yo,” he said. “Can we train crow pose? Like, properly. Just you and me.”
His tone stopped me cold.
Again, no grin. Just calm and serious.
“Hum.. yeah,” I said, a bit thrown off. “Of course.”
We moved to the side of the room. I showed him the setup again: hands planted, elbows bent, knees high on the triceps. I knelt behind him, spotting his ankles as he leaned forward and shifted his weight onto his wrists.
He lifted. His feet hovered. His core engaged. He was solid. Focused.
And that’s when he chose to speak:
“You know,” he said, still holding the posture, voice steady, “I figured out what you’ve been doing.”
My hands tightened instinctively, ready to catch him if he tipped. My brain immediately panicked:
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, still balanced:
“All this stuff,” he went on. “The deluxe sauna thing. Open anchor... All your weird poses. The stretches that felt… extra.”
I swallowed, the faintest whiff of his strong musk radiating from the fabric of his shorts disturbing me.
“You think I’m dumb or what?”
The question landed hard.
“I... Mason.”
“I searched for it online. Everywhere bro. There's nothing like that,” he said, not angry, but firm. “And in the sauna. When that guy came in. You stopped tonguing my fucking ass bro. Instantly.”
He held the pose, arms shaking slightly now, but he didn’t come down. The sweat coming from his armpits was slowly making me numb.
He suddenly tripped ahead, I caught him, preventing any damage. He quickly stood up:
“You just stopped bro,” he continued. “Not because it wasn’t ‘normal’ or whatever you said. That was bullshit, and we both know it.”
All of a sudden, he pulled at his short in a swift move, his meaty cock bouncing in the air, precum dripping on the floor.
"Crow pose, now!"
Damn, wtf?
My heart was pounding so hard.
“Because that was some straight up gay shit you did! ”
Again, he went of the crow pose, really high.
I had to quickly grab at his angles to help with the spotting, afraid to say the wrong thing.
"That’s gay shit you want?" he growled, tipping back suddenly, his body a controlled collapse toward me.
"Should have asked me properly then!" he growled, tipping back suddenly, his body a controlled collapse toward me.
His package fell on my mouth, tea-bagging me completely.
His balls hit my lips first, heavy and warm, followed by the thick press of his shaft, already drooling with pre. The musky tang of him flooded my senses, salt and heat and something earthy underneath, like worn gym tape and adrenaline.
"You love this right bro?," Mason muttered, voice ragged as he rolled his hips slightly, smearing precum across my face in a wet stripe.
I had his nut juice all over my mouth, eyes and chin.
Perfection...
"Fuck, bro... that's hitting the spot,' Mason groaned, his big arms braced wide for balance.
He rocked back subtle into my mouth, cock twitching below, starting to stiffen as blood rushed south.
I tried to open wider and wider, allowing one of his sweaty nutts to land on my palate.
The taste, fuuuck!
"Good, right? Just relax that mouth, let it open," he murmured, flirting casual.
Suddenly, he shifted again, putting an end to the posture that had nothing of the original "crow".
"I have a pose to show you!"
He guided me, as if I were a vulgar doll thinking a few grams:
"Head on the ground, mouth open "
He got right above me, positionning himself so that his ballsack was brushing my mouth again.
Shit, he's really doing it.
I forced my jaw open wider trying to swallow his balls. I swear their were so huge I couln't feet both in my mouth. The sack resting hot against my tongue, every twitch of muscle transferring damp weight onto my tastebuds.
"Yeah, just like that," he breathed, grinding down harder, his thighs flexing with exertion. "Bet you’ve been eye-fucking me since I walked in."
The scent of him was overwhelming: ripe, male and rich. I tried to lift my hands, instinctively wanting to grip his hips, but he chuckled low and shoved them back down with his knee:
"Not yet tea bag boy," he growled, rolling his balls deliberately over my lips, smearing them with sweat.
The heat of his fat cock pressed wet against my nose, the thick musk thickening the air until I was gulping it down like oxygen., it was too much. The view wrecked me too: his foreskin peeling back as his dick grew even more rigid, tip leaking a fat drop onto the mat.
I couldn't hold back: tongue out, I went for it, licking slow up one hairy ball, the skin salty, drawing it gentle into my mouth. Mason jolted, a grunt ripping from his throat, his sack contracting tight as he shuddered full-body, cock throbbing visible below, leaking more pre in urgent drips.
He moaned low, a rumble from his chest:
"Call this the Drooling Crow,' Mason taunted, shifting his weight so his cock slapped heavy against my forehead.
His voice was rough amusement, the kind of teasing that curled my toes.
"Or maybe Face Full of Gains, you like that, coach? Bet you loved my protein shakes straight from the tap." He punctuated the jab with a slow grind, his taint dragging over my chin, the coarse hair catching roughly against my skin.
His laughter rumbled through me, vibrating into my bones.
"Gotta go deeper for you, Mason... new to this, need to build those muscles, right?" His voice dropped husky
Then he leaned forward, his dick rising deliberate and thick. He grabbed a yoga cushion that was lying nearby and placed it just under my neck. With my head tilted back, I had an even better angle to access his cock.
Fuck, that was going to be epic...
The fat head kissed the seam of my lips, already slick from his earlier smear:
"Open up bro," he ordered, and I parted my mouth obediently, tasting salt-skin and the bitter tang of precum pooling under my tongue.
His first thrust was slow, burying himself until my throat would block around his crown:
"Christ, that clamp," he groaned, fingers tightening in my hair like a leash. "That's were I fed you last time bro."
Oh yeah, I remember... so fucking well.
But then, he didn’t stop. He sarted to buck against my poor throat again and again. Each push forward came faster, rougher, his hips pistoning with the same relentless rhythm he had while climbing: controlled exertion turned filthy.
My gag reflex sparked bright and frantic, tears blurring his silhouette above me, but Mason just grinned, thumbing away the spit leaking down my chin:
"Yeah, cry for it," he rasped. "Want you dripping when I wreck that throat." His balls slapped against my nose in wet smacks, the sound obscene in the quiet studio, each collision sending musk thick enough to taste flooding my sinuses.
Five minutes might as well have been hours. My lungs burned, starved and greedy, but the stretch of him carving space inside me was all I could process: the way my windpipe fluttered helplessly around the invading heat, the brutal drag of his veins along my palate.
Mason’s breath hitched when I convulsed, his fingers tightening in my hair like a live wire:
"Fuck, that squeeze," he gritted out, hips stuttering. "Like your throat’s milking me." His laugh was ragged, punched out of him as he finally let his weight drop fully onto me, crushing my nose into his pelvis.
POP!
His cockhead had just broken through my throat's entrance!
"Shiiit, I'm inside! I'm in your fucking neck bro," he smirked, grinding deeper until his pubes tickled my lips.
My throat... destoyed...
His thighs trembled with restraint now, coiled tight like he was holding himself back from bucking outright.
I'm not going to survive this...
The taste was overwhelming, sweat dripping from his balls onto my nostrils in thick, saline beads. I swallowed reflexively to avoid gagging too much, and the way his cock pulsed in response made him curse, low and filthy:
"Gonna wreck this pretty yoga throat," he mused, thumbing at the spit-slick mess of my lower lip. "Allright bro?"
Fuck yeah man!
Then his fingers found the bulge of his cockhead in my stretched throat, pressing experimentally around it until my gag reflex flared again, tears spilling hot down my cheeks:
"Christ, look at that," Mason muttered, almost reverent as he traced the outline of his helmet stretching my skin taut:
"Like you’re fucking hollowed out for me." He laughed, breathless, rolling his hips to watch the ripple of my esophagus struggling to accommodate him:
"Never seen a neck take dick like this. You trained for it, coach? Or just born hungry slut?"
His grip tightened around my throat, not enough to cut air, just enough to feel the pulse thrumming against his crown.
"Swear I can feel my cock pulse right here, that's crazy bro," he mused, dragging his thumb along the straining column of muscle. "Never had a chick doing that!"
He was facinated by his cock buried deep in my neck. Almost like a child:
"Shit! So cool bro!"
The scent of his sweat-damp nuts filled my nostrils, thick enough to coat my tongue when I gasped around him.
The next thrust was glacial: inch by inch, the ridge of his head stretching me wider until my jaw ached. Mason exhaled sharply through his nose, watching the tears track down my cheeks with dark amusement:
"Yeah, that’s it," he praised, rolling his hips in a filthy circle to smear precum down my uvula.
His thumb pressed harder against my windpipe, fingertips tracing the bulge of himself beneath the skin.
"Can see where I’m splitting you open," he murmured, almost conversational. "Like your throat’s fucking blushing for me."
He pulled back so that his cockhead rested on my nose, to let me gasp juts a second, before driving in again, slow and relentless.
I could feel the thick vein along his shaft catching on my palate with every drag. His breath hitched when my gag reflex fluttered around him, squeezing tight as he bottomed out:
"Fuck, you keep clamping like that," he warned, voice gravel-rough, "And I’m gonna fucking drown you again." His hand flexed around my throat, not choking, just holding, claiming the space his cock carved inside me.
"That's right, keep spotting me." he growled, thrusting down shallow at first, like testing the weight.
His thick uncut cock filled (oh so slowly!) my poor mouth again and again, stretching my jaws wide, crushing my throat. It was like a medieval torture, invented to slowly choke people to death with sin.
I deep-throated him relentless, nose buried in the musky crease where cock met balls, inhaling his raw animal scent.
Mason teetered above me, grunting each times his balls met my nose, his powerful body pressing down hard, dominating every inch.
And then, I head him saying what I was dreading the most:
"Fuck! Fuck! Oh my god... FUCK ONE !"
He fucking started to count, voice booming like calling out gym sets, as his first orgasm hit sudden.
I could feel his fingers pressing his helmet buried deep in my neck, like if he wanted to milk himself even more. His cockhead swelled impossibly fatter in my throat, helmet lodging deep.
"FUUUUCK!"
The first hot pulsed so deep in my throat. Way too far to taste anything but unmistakable in its heat. Mason groaned, low and guttural, fingers tightening in my hair as his cock twitched against the tight clutch of my esophagus. I gagged violent, choking on the flood. It was so much already!
"TWO! SHIT! Throat's gripping so tight, bro!" He laughed gruff through the strain, sweat pouring off his thick neck.
His uncut cock had stopped pistonning in and out. He kept it the deeper he could go, right in my esophagus.
I obeyed fully, hands digging into his ass cheeks now, pulling him closer, my gag reflex firing nonstop but fueling his rhythm. His heavy balls were crushed flat on my nostrils, pulsing with each spurt.
"THREE... take it, bro! Swallow that load like a champ."
Cum blasted relentless, third wave even thicker. I choked it down, eyes watering, head lost in the haze of his musk and heat, his powerful thighs flexing around my ears, trapping me under his sweaty dominance.
Two, three, four seconds. I almost thought there was a problem lol. I knew this dude was a heavy cummer. Last time he had fed me around 10 loads, right? What was happening in his balls? My throat was burning with his creamy seed but I kinda needed more at this pont, his first salty loads sliding heavy into my stomach.
But then he started to buck. Fast.
"Shiiit! What the fuck bro? What thre fuck??!"
He throat-fucked me hard and so fast, all the slime started to escape from my poor mouth, drowning me. I was a fucking mess.
"Brooo, I'm cumming again!"
Shit! Really!
Fuck I knew what was happening.
Mason had just edged himself in my throat for a while now, and had stopped all the thrusting before cumming. Maybe he was experiencing some sort of ruined climax. Or double climax I don't know (this actually did happen to me and it feels so good weird at the same time).
That was my only guess at this moment.
And it was so fucking hot.
"FOUR! FUUCK!" His voice cracked with the effort, balls pressing hard against my nose.
He stopped moving again, cock filling me complete, hot jets pulsing direct, belly filling with his thick seed.
He kept counting, thrusts turning teasing and rough, balancing on the brink like it was just another rep.
"FIVE! Yeah broo..."
My throat kept convulsing around his girth, pulling more cum from his swollen nuts, the pressure building insane as his body shook.
He pulled back abruptly on the sixth spurt, his cockhead popping free with a filthy sound. He withdrew until his cockhead was at my throat's entrance.
Thank god, I was about to pass out!
He fed me like that: methodical alternating between shallow thrusts that painted my palate and deep, grinding rolls that milked his shaft dry.
"Fuck, look at you," he groaned, tilting my chin up to watch the spillage leak from the corners of my lips. "Like a goddamn cream pie."
The last few loads were directly dropped on my tongue (he counted 12 in total, guess the edging made him cum even more). They hit in quick succession, flooding my throat until my cheeks bulged. Mason watched, rapt, as I struggled to swallow around the thickness, my throat working desperately to keep up.
I could finally taste his A+ quality cum, salt-bitter, richer than his precum. I moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tense, and he laughed, breathless;
"Yeah, you fucking love this bud," he muttered, dragging his cockhead through the mess pooling on my tongue to smear it across my palate.
When Mason finally reaslised I was entirely covered by a awfull mix of throat slime, cum and sweat, he asked me, almost serious:
"Shit bro. You' goo?"
"Yeuurg!"
Yeah, that was me. Me burping some of his cum.
