Next day, I woke up with the sound of a notification at 7 a.m.
Of course, it was him:
Mason: Bro. You free this weekend or what?
I smiled at my phone before I could stop myself.
Jonas: Yeah, just can’t host this time.
It was true. My neighbor was doing some work all weekend long, and the noise of the drill might disturb us. Our relaxing massage sessions required absolute silence, so I had to come up with something else.
Mason: Ah damn. All good though. What we doing then?
I hesitated for half a second, then typed:
Jonas: We could go to the cinema. There’s a recent film I think you’d like.
The three dots appeared instantly:
Mason: Cinema?? Like actual movie theater? Big screen and everything?
I laughed:
Jonas: Yeah, you're on?
Mason: Bro I haven’t been in YEARS. Do we get snacks? Do you sit wherever? Is it weird if I stand up to stretch?
Jonas: You’re allowed to move, Mason. I promise.
A pause. Then:
Mason: Okay but what do I wear? Do i need to add some layers on?
That made me smile even more:
Jonas: It’s just hanging out dude. Don’t overthink it. Come as you like.
Mason: Easy for you to say, movie expert.
I snorted.
Jonas: Wear whatever you’re comfortable in. Surprise is part of it.
Mason: You keep saying surprise like it’s gonna be some weird artsy thing.
Jonas: Trust me.
We agreed to meet in front of the Magestic cinema near the center for the 6 p.m screening. I couln't wait to feel that meaty jock again near me, radiating heat.
And I had a plan to make the screening more exciting.
- - -
I arrived just before the show started and didn't take long to spot him from distance:
Sleeveless, obviously (a loose blue muscle tank despite the chill), hands in his pockets, completely relaxed like he belonged anywhere he stood. Broad shoulders, solid frame, posture easy and confident without trying to be impressive. He looked so fucking good in his own nonchalant way:
When he saw me, his face lit up:
“Yo,” he said, smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world. "You're late bro."
“Hey,” I replied, suddenly very aware of how small I felt next to him.
He’d been outside for a while, the cold didn’t seem to bother him at all. I stepped closer, reflex taking over.
French reflex.
I leaned in slightly, already angling my head for la bise/cheek kiss, not even thinking about it. Mason moved in response, but instead of leaning in, he stepped forward confidently and pulled me into a quick half check, half embrace.
Chest to chest, solid, warm and effortless. His strong collarbone pounded my chin.
“So hyped for the movie.” he said, cheerful and relaxed.
His body was so so warm. It didn't make any sense. Totally at ease despite the weather. But the warmest part of his anatomy was clearly hiding behind the thin fabric of his shorts. His huge flaccid dick bounced on my thigh. It felt like his junk was doing a high-five to me in a nonchalant way.
Then it was over.
“Bro, you’re late.” He said, a bit cocky.
I blinked:
“I’m exactly on time.”
“Yeah, but aren't you supposed to come early and pick seats?” he asked, teasing me.
"It's fine. Shouln't be crowded."
I glanced at his bare arms flexing around. Not even goosebumps. He was not pretending to not feel the cold in a macho way, he just didn't feel it.
“Shit, you’re not even cold?”
He shrugged:
“Nah. Kinda nice actually.” He said while stretching his shoulders a bit. "Wakes you up."
I shook my head
“You're insane dude.”
He laughed and turned toward the entrance:
“C’mon. Let’s go. We're going to miss the credits.”
Bro visibly forgot that we would have to watch like 15min of advertising before the actual movie.
We were barely two steps from the ticket machine when I pulled out my card without really thinking about it.
“I got it,” I said.
Mason immediately raised a hand, half laughing, half serious:
“Whoa, hold up. Nah. I’m the dude here. I should be paying.”
I actually snorted:
“What logic was that supposed to be?”
He shrugged, completely at ease, like this was some universal rule:
“I don’t know, man. I always paid when I went out. Especially on dates.”
That made me laugh even more:
“First of all, I'm a dude too. Second of all, we're doing a bro date, remember?”
He frowned slightly, like he was really thinking about it:
“So?” he asked.
“So,” I continued, tapping my card on the reader, “on a bro date, sometimes you let your bro pay. And you deal with it. Maybe even...” I glanced at him, smiling, “you let yourself feel like the chick for once.”
He blinked. Just once. Then his face broke into this big, dumb smile:
“Shit bro. Never heard of that rule before.” he said. “I mean I don't complain if you get to pay me tickets. Lead the way then.”
The tickets printed, I handed him one and he looked at it, then back at me, still smiling, clearly happy even if he didn’t fully understand why.
- - -
Inside the theater, the air felt almost too warm, or maybe it was just him.
I had booked one of those couple seats, the kind without the armrest in the middle. When he noticed, he leaned closer to look at them and raised his eyebrows:
“Wait… there’s no divider?” he whispered, impressed. “That’s sick. I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
I shrugged, pretending it was no big deal:
“Yeah. It’s… more comfortable. Though you might like it. It's the Bro seats”
Actually that was meant for couples but he didn't seem to dislike at all. On the contrary, he grinned:
“Wait, really? That's genious.”
He dropped into the seat next to me like he owned the space, broad shoulders spreading easily, his masculine presence filling the row.
The lights dimmed, after all the annoying advertising and the movie credits started rolling, along with some striking shots of the Côte d'Azure. His eyes were locked on the screen:
“Damn,” he murmured, already invested. “looks so fucking good.”
For the info, we were watching a french giallo-inspired movie : Reflection in a Dead Diamond (huge reco if you like the genre).
A few minutes in, without any hesitation or buildup, he casually lifted his arm and rested it along the back of the seat, right behind my head. Completely natural. No pause. No checking.
Then, trying to act like this was the most normal thing in the world, I gently adjusted his arm so it rested more comfortably around my neck, and I leaned into him just a little. He looked at me for just a second, like checking if I was good, and smiled, making his muscly arm crush my neck just a bit:
"Getting comfy bro?"
"Yeah man, feels good in your arm." I whispered back.
He kept commenting quietly on the movie (on the lighting, the music, how intense some shots were), completely oblivious to the fact that I was right there, tucked against him, enjoying his smell.
His knee even started bouncing on mine at some point, that restless gym-bro energy he always had, and before long it landed on it. It just stayed there, pressing on it from time to time.
Of course, I didn’t move, slowly getting intoxicated by the strong musc emanating from his armpit, a few centimeters away from my nose.
I felt like the luckiest man on earth.
Mason's knee kept grinding against mine, casual but insistent, his arm tightening just enough to pin me there. I could feel the weight of him, that confused bulldog charisma making everything feel charged, oblivious to the tension building.
"I know what would feel even better bro." I said clalmly, putting my hand over his left thigh. "See how you're tense over there? That's not good."
My right hand itched, brushing his thigh slowly. He didn't flinch, just grunted approval at a spicy scene on screen:
"Ugh, is it ok? Like doing this here?" He asked, visibly unsure.
"Yeah bro, that's what those seats are for. In case of someone getting stiff down there."
"Really? Shiit... Can you do it for me bro? The full Bro seats experience?"
"Yeah bud, just focus on the movie."
Emboldened, I let my fingers trail higher, dipping into the leg opening of his dark shorts, seeking out the heavy hang of his flaccid cock. There it was, soft but massive, nestled against his thigh, the uncut skin warm and velvety under my touch, balls shifting loose below like they were still recovering from our last session.
Shit, this was risky.
I had to look around us, just to see if anyone was noticing us. The cinema was pretty empty: nobody in our row, just a few spectators here and there, mostly behind us. It was risky, sure, but the thrill to get my hands (or even more), on his huge cock was just too much.
I wrapped my palm around it gentle, feeling the thick weight fill my hand, like it was a beast sleeping, foreskin loose over the head, a faint warmth pulsing from his core.
Mason's breath hitched slight, but he played it off, arm squeezing my neck a bit more.
"Damn, that chick looks so good bro" he commented, eyes glued to the screen. "Seen her tits?"
Sure dude, sure.
I started slow jerking, fingers curling firm around the shaft, stroking up and down in lazy pulls, coaxing it to life.
He relaxed into the seat, that powerful body sinking deeper, arm draping heavier over me like we were just bros chilling:
"Fucking stunnin' man."
His cock responded quickly to my hands, swelling in my grip, veins starting to bulge as blood rushed in, the foreskin retracting slow to bare the sensitive head. He opened his legs wider, knee pressing harder against mine, encouraging my hand's steady strokes, thigh muscles flexing under the shorts, giving me more room to work.
"Love the old-school vibes."
The theater's hum masked the slick sounds that his cock was strating to emit, my palm gliding easier as pre leaked from the slit, wetting his shaft. I pumped firmer, feeling it grow rigid, the heat building urgent, his balls drawing up tight against my knuckles with each tug.
Mason grunted low, shifting his hips forward, thrusting subtle into my fist like it was a natural reflex:
"Shit, bro..." His voice rumbled.
His cock was throbbing hard now, stretching my fingers wide, the musky scent rising faint from his crotch. I twisted my wrist on the upstroke, squeezing the helmet to smear the pre, making it shine under the screen's glow.
He encouraged more, leg spreading even wide, arm pulling me closer so my shoulder pressed into his sweat-damp tank.
The movie's tension seemed to mirror ours: on screen, there was a chase scene with grunts and heavy breathing.
"Damn bro..."
I tugged the shorts' leg opening wider with my free hand, bunching the fabric up. There it was, his 9-inch monster springing free, pulsing hard in the dim light. It throbbed with precum drops in my grip, hot and insistent, begging for more as the movie droned on.
The movie's chase scene ramped up, engines roaring through the speakers, but all I could hear was Mason's heavy breathing next to me, his exposed cock throbbing hot in my fist.
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a firm bro tone:
"Muffle those moans and stay still, bro. Okay?"
He turned his head slight, thick neck craning, that confused look crossing his face, eyebrows furrowed, mouth half-open like he was piecing together a deadlift form:
"Huh?"
"When you feel it coming, make me go deeper, okay? No mess on the floor."
"Deeper. No mess on the floor. Okay bro." He repeated slowly, absent.
Heart slamming, I shifted lower in my seat, ducking under his arm, mouth opening wide as I dove straight for it.
Bon appétit!
The thick helmet pushed past my lips, stretching my mouth, fat and swollen, filling every inch, my cheeks bulging around the ridge. I sealed my lips tight at the base of the head, tongue pressing against the underside, tasting the salty pre leaking fresh from the slit.
Fuck, it was huge, the heat radiating into my throat as I held there, savoring the velvety skin, the pulse of his veins against my palate. Such a juicy and fat cockhead.
Mason was truly gifted.
His breath caught sharp above me but he stayed put, gritting his teeth harder, I could hear the grind, feel the tension in his thigh muscles flexing under my free hand.
I started sucking only on the head, hollowing my cheeks to pull a vacuum-tight pressure I loved to do, drawing out more of that thick pre out of his balls, swirling my tongue around the sensitive slit to lap it up.
My right hand wrapped firm around his shaft below, pumping slow and deliberate: up to meet my lips, down to squeeze the base where his balls met, coaxing the length stiffer, longer, the foreskin sliding back fully to bare the glistening helmet.
This couln't be a long and methodic milking session. I had to extract his tasty cum fast.
I worked it faster, lips popping slight on the ridge before sealing again, hand stroking steady to build the pressure, feeling his balls draw up tight against my knuckles.
"Shit... bro!"
I could hear a gunfight happening on screen when Mason's control cracked.
His right hand shot down, big fingers clamping my head like a vice, tangling in my hair, holding me frozen as his hips bucked forward once, sharp and dominant.
It was my cue.
His cock stiffened impossibly more in my mouth and his large head nudged right at the entrance of my throat. There was so much more cock left it was pretty outrageous. I was only like 3/5 down!
"Fuck" he whispered through gritted teeth, voice strained low, eyes locked on the screen. "Commin'!"
He thrust deep, shoving his stiff helmet into my throat, stretching it but not able to go past it. It felt just too large and my throat was not prepared for such a beast yet.
I gagged hard, eyes watering, but he didn't let up, gripping tighter, fucking my face with short, controlled pumps to muffle the slaps:
"One' he counted soft, grunting bro-style, his powerful body tensing as the first load erupted, hot, thick ropes of cum blasting straight down my gullet, flooding it.
"Two,' he hissed, tring to impale me with his montruous cockhead once again.
I swallowed frantic, but the amount he was feeding me was just impossible to handle. His grip around my neck pulled me closer, pinning me there as wave after wave hit: three, four... each count whispered urgent, lost in the raw release, cock throbbing relentless in my stuffed mouth.
"Fuuh bro!"
Thank goodness he was nutting during a fight scene with all the gunshots cause' the poor bro had completely forgotten to be discrete. I'm pretty sure the nearest guy behind us heard all his grunts and moans during the climax.
His hot and thick cum was injected right into my throat but I couln't keep up with the amount and frequency. Each cumblast felt like a full load! It kept pulsing and pulsing heavy from his balls, so much so that it began spurting up my nose in a burning rush, making me choke silent. My mouth was sealed shut with his pulsing cockhead while cum was oozing from my nostrils.
Some cum also escaped the corners of my lips, dripping warm down my chin onto his thigh.
I repressed the gag, trying to breath through the bitter load running from my nostrils, my hand still pumping the base to milk him dry.
By five, his loads kept coming, thick and endless, filling me until I had to swallow double-time, the excess bubbling out from my nose.
I was swallowing and breahting his cum at the same time.
Mason's hand stayed clamped, not letting me pull back, his thigh muscles quivering under my braced palm. The theater's shadows danced on screen, but he was lost in it, grunting low with each spurt, body pressing dominant, that heavy masculine heat overwhelming me completely.
He kept pumping like that for way too long. I kid you not, I was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen.
"Ten... shiiiit, bro,' he muttered, voice muffled by his bitten lip.
I could feel the cumblasts getting smaller. This would probably be the last real load I would get from him.
I needed air baldy (my nose was full of his babies at the moment). I tried to lift myself off his cock but his hand didn't let me:
"Bro." he said calmly. "Keep it down there. No mess right?"
His cock didn't soften, still rigid and pulsing, hinting at more drops of cum to come as the gunfight on screen was ending.
And he did feed me a lot more cum!
Slowly, nonchalantly, his fat cockead kept releasing small gobs of cream as he was enjoying the rest of the movie. I, on the other hand, didn't get to see the ending. He kept me busy in his lap, gently patting my head while I was cleaning his cock fully.
I couln't complain though, this was honestly the best screening I've ever been to.
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