I can't hold back anymore.
I need to feel him fully, taste that heat.
My free hand hooked the waistband of his shorts:
"Your leg looks so tense dude, mind if I take your shorts off?" I almost whispered, while still jerking him off. "Can't really get you relaxed with... that in the way" I explained calmly.
He shruged, eyes still on the screen where the main actors were desperatly kissing:
"Sure, bro, go for it. You're the expert." He paused, grabbing the last slice of pizza. "You're right, feels stiff as fuck down there."
His thick arms flexed as he lifted his ass just enough to let the shorts drop, socks scraping the floor. The scent of him floods stronger now, salty skin, fresh cum building, raw male heat. I shoved the shorts aside with my foot, spreading his legs wider, letting me full-access.
His massive uncut cock sprang free, bouncing on his sack. The shaft veined and rigid, foreskin pulled back to show the swollen purple helmet glistening with pre. Below, his balls hang low and full, practically hairless. But they were clammy and smelled so strong.
His dick was ridiculous.
I stayed there, absent, eyes glued to the wonder I had just released. It must have been around 9 inches of pure meat, pointing straight at the screen (as if it was waching the movie too lol), hard as iron, thick as a can. From time to time, a bubble of semen emerged from the slit and before slowly sliding down towards the carpet.
It was just Fuck...
I grabbed some of it with my fingers. He jolted:
The contact made him jump:
"Shit... you're cold as fuck."
"Sorry, your leg is so warm. Guess my fingers are going to warm up soon."
"It's fine. Actually feels good on my skin. "I trust you, yoga man.”
I started with broad, steady jerks. Nothing fancy. Just working the meat up and down with it's foreskin, easing tension, keeping my breathing calm even if my thoughts absolutely were not.
Mason let out a small and low moan:
“Oooh damn,” he said. “Yeah, okay. That’s actually too good.”
The veins on his cock were bulging, his shaft kept growing, so wide my hand barely circled it, pulsing with every heartbeat. Heat poured off it, scorching my cold fingers, the uncut foreskin slick with precum that leaked steady from the slit, coating my thumb in sticky warmth. It jumped in my hold, the helmet swelling fatter, purple and shiny in the dim room light, begging for more friction.
I focused on the technique. On consistency. On the movie. On the fact that this was normal. Completely normal.
“Your quads are pretty tight,” I said. “Probably from lifting.”
My fingers tightened around the thick base of Mason's bare cock, gripping it firm as it throbbed hot against my palm.
“Yeah?” he replied, glancing down briefly at the empty pizza box near him, then back to the screen. “Figures. I always get told to work on them more.”
I leaned in closer, my breath ghosting over his ear, voice a low whisper to cut through the on-screen dialogue.
“Man,” he started calmy, “you’re seriously good at this shit. Like… I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but it works so so well.”
I smiled, even though he wasn’t looking at me.
“Years of practice,” I said. "The real magic is that I like it. Helping clients relax. Knowing I’m making them feel better.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then: Client?”
Something in his tone made me glance at him.
“You mean,” he continued, turning his head just enough to look at me, “like… I’m just a client to you?”
Great job, Jonas.
“No...” I said quickly. “No, I mean, I started as your instructor, yeah, but...”
“But what?”
I swallowed.
“But you're right. That's our first bro date right now.”
His left arm landed on my shoulder suddenly and I felt his strong hand grabbing my neck:
“Exactly yoga bro, that's the stuff we're doing right now."
I had stopped my hand without realizing it. He noticed immediatly:
“Can you keep going? I feel it's getting better already."
“Oh sorry, yeah for sure."
I kept stroking his dick slowly. The film went on, we were reaching the grand finale, and Mason was moaning and swearing more and more with each minute passing:
“Man… It's not good."
"What's wrong?"
"If I stay like this much longer, I’m gonna have to use your toilets or something,” he said. “I’m gonna mess up your couch.”
I smiled, keeping my hands steady:
“You’re fine. That’s normal. Muscles letting go generates heat and sweat has to go out.”
“Figures,” he muttered. “Human radiator syndrome strikes again. You sure though? I sweat so much.”
I hesitated, then said, lightly:
“Relax. It’s cool. You’re my bro, remember? That's juts between the two of us.”
That did it. He chuckled, the tension leaving his voice:
“Yeah...,” he said. “Fuck! But don't you dare JUDGE if I'm... ruinning the carpet then.”
I worked with both hands now, carefully, slowler than ever, and felt the monster hardening even more under my palms. He was ready to burst at any moment.
At that point, there was no joking. No posturing. Just trust.
“Actually,” I said, “if you’re okay with it, I can help you relax even more. There’s a secret posture I use sometimes during assisted work.”
He cracked one eye open:
“A secret posture?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Nothing complicated. Just helps with circulation and release.”
“What’s it called?” he asked.
I improvised:
“Uh… I call it the Open Anchor.”
“That sounds cool as hell,” he said immediately. “I’m in.”
I guided him gently:
“Just let your knees fall a bit wider,” I said. “Not forcing anything. Good. Now lift your head slightly off the back of the couch… yeah, like that. There, grab my neck with your left hand, because you're gonna need some support. Now Close your eyes.”
He followed every instruction without hesitation, his warm hand landing on the back of my neck, holding it firmly. I could spot his left pec in the arm opening of his grey tank. The sweat from his armpit hit my nose hard.
"Okyay bro, I'm all set. And now?"
“Now breathe with my hands,” I continued. “Slow inhale through your nose. Long exhale through your mouth.”
He did. He obeyed me like the good studen he was. Perfectly in synch with my hands jerking him.
“Listen to me bro. Every time you feel a wave of release, like a jolt or loosening, count from one upward. Quietly or out loud, whatever feels right. You're in?”
He nodded apprehensively, as if he wasn't sure he could do it, but wanted to try to please me anyway.
It was so adorable and so exciting to see him like that, on the verge of exploding, ready to release what felt like days of pent-up tension. His cock was now leaking precum, oozing out of his piss slit like he was cumming almost.
A few seconds passed by and I felt a huge spasm at the base of his cock. The large vein contracted all along, as if to bring a hot and thick substance to the tip, his gripp on the back of my neck tightened and he cried out:
"SHIT BROOO, it's comiiiing."
His breath shuddered on the exhale as as my hand was reaching his swollen helmet.
"Count for me!" I reminded him, thrusting back.
"OOONE!" He grunted in agony.
The moment my palm landed on his huge balls again, the first spurt of sperm came out of his fully exposed helmet.
I kid you not, it felt like watching a cum firework.
I had never seen such a heavy and strong cumblast in my life. Imagine a thick rope of white cum shooting from his slit, arcing through the air to splatter on the carpet in streaks. I quickly accompanied this first load with a flick of the wrist.
He soon twitched in my hand again, grunting:
"Ah, shit! TWOO!" and another load blasted out, hot and sticky, landing even further in the room, almost touching the TV.
I kept stroking slowly through it, milking him, feeling his cock pulse wildly.
He was in heaven:
"Ungh THREE... Brooo!" Third thrust, more cum erupting, so much so the remnants were coating my hands, dripping down to his balls.
Four was more eruptive and most landed on the carpet and my hands. He kept going and going, reflexive bucks emptying him in heavy shots. Five and six painted the ground in front of the TV again, their scent sharp and bleachy filling the air.
"SEVEN, JEEEZ...!" His face twisted, bulldog jaw clenched, but eyes still closed and his mouth agape.
Hot straight gymbro sperm continued to flow out of Mason's cock head like lava almost, spilling out from the slit. It was everywhere.
After what seemed like a full minute of thorough cumming blasts, the gym ape stopped counting. We were up to 10 powerful jets, and this guy had practically repainted my living room.
And the best thing wasn’t how relaxed he looked now, eyes half open. It was how completely he’d handed himself over to the moment, like it never occurred to him that this could be anything other than a safe massage with his bro.
"Shiiiit bro." He whispered. "Your hands are truly..."
"You were great man. Breathing technique was on point." I complimented him.
"That was some fucking climax right there... Feels like I just crushed a workout or something."
"Yeah, it's just like doing reps. You did great dude." I reassured him. "Enjoyed Open Anchor?"
"Fuuuck dude... I've never felt so.. so weird and good at the same time."
"It's okay Mason. Nothing wrong with what we did. Just me giving you the proper rub you deserve."
"The rub I deserve?" He repeated, unsure. "Yeah... I really needed that."
"Its like working out a knot, but for this big guy down here. It was so stiff I needed both hands to work it out. Helps release the buildup, keeps you focused and relaxed, right?"
My words were coming out smooth, casual, the tone masking my hunger for his gorgeous cock twisting in my gut.
It was now in a semi hard state but I couln't keep my eyes off. It kept twitching slowly under my grip, with occasional fat drops of cum still dripping down the shaft. Without him noticing, I went to taste some of it on my fingers.
It was salty and very bitter. Thick too.
"Shiiit, I missed the end of the movie. What happened bro?" He asked, brethless. "I'm sorry."
The cute gymrat was still clueless as ever, shorts at his feet, socks dotted with stray drops, his tank top stuck to his manly torso by sweat.
I smiled, hand now lingering on his thigh, wondering how lucky I was.
I couln't stop smiling, his cum invading my palate.
Fuck, it's so strong.
And that's just one drop.
Next time this is going down my throat for sure.
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