Turns out that spending most of a movie with your straight friend's thick cock in your mouth is a hypnotic experience. I barely heard the credits roll.
Mason's right hand was still on my head, keeping me impaled on his now deflating shaft. Yeah, the flesh monster was finally softening in my mouth, completely drained and cleaned from top to bottom.
My work was done.
I still felt his cum coating my throat and nostrils. There were a few spots of dried cum on my chin too. I badly needed to clean this up before the cinema lights turned back on!
"Fuck bro..." He sighed while pulling out his cockhead from my mouth with a wet pop.
He moved his right hand away, allowing me to finally escape from his grip.
"That was some killer movie" he muttered, pulling up his shorts's waistband like it was just another gym cooldown.
I wiped my face discreet, heart still pounding as the lights were slowly coming back on. Mason stretched like he’d just woken up from the best nap of his life. He let out a quiet sigh, rolling his shoulders:
“I mean it,” he said, grinning at me as I was recovering from the shooting, “that was… actually awesome. Loved it.”
I smiled, still a little dazed, still very aware of how close we’d been for the last two hours:
"Yeah, loved the movie too."
“Honestly, I didn’t expect that,” he went on, turning his chest to me. "It was so colorfull and the shots… they felt so intense man. Kinda artsy, but in a cool way. Not boring at all.”
"Glad you liked it dude." I answered, moved by his sincerity and the somewhat clumsy way he praised the film.
He paused, then added more casually:
"And yeah. Being taken care of like that? That massage stuff? Top tier shit bro. Love the way you went for it till' the end. Should do this more often.”
I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady:
“You seemed… really into it.”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “Top tier pump bro. Easily. I feel fucking drained right now though. Like a need to actually sleep.”
No kidding dude...
We stepped back outside into the cold, the kind that bit at your face immediately.
Mason didn’t seem to notice it at all. He walked close to me without thinking, hands shoved into his shorts pockets, still radiating heat like a furnace. At some point, our shoulders brushed, and neither of us adjusted course.
As we walked through the quiet streets toward my place, I caught our reflection in a shop window. The way we moved together. The easy rhythm. The way people probably saw us from the outside.
We look good together.
Fuck, I was probably just imagining things and projecting me.
Still... it felt familiar. Almost like a couple, even if neither of us would have said it out loud. That thought stuck with me longer than it should have as we were crossing all the popular restaurants of the city center.
When we reached my building, Mason stopped and turned toward me:
“Thanks for tonight, bro,” he said warmly. “Seriously. That was a good call.”
Before I could even respond, he pulled me into a hug. Firm, tight, genuine. I stood there for a second, then hugged him back, my face pressed briefly against his chest.
“See you next week?” he asked as he pulled away. "Next course I have with you is on Tuesday."
“Yeah, see yah man."
Right before leaving, when I thought the brodate was officially over, Mason suddenly stopped in his tracks like he’d just unlocked a hidden achievement:
“Wait,” he said. “Bro!”
I turned to face him, confused. He had that look. The one he got when a thought hit him full force and he needed to say it immediately (or it would surely disappear forever):
“I just realized something,” he went on. “It’s always you coming up with the ideas. Yoga, movies, chill stuff. That’s not fair.”
I blinked:
“It’s not…?”
“No,” he said firmly. “I should invite you next time.”
That alone was enough to make my stomach flip.
“So,” he continued, already warming up to his own plan, “I was thinking: I could take you to my place.”
I definitely stopped breathing for half a second.
“Like,” he added quickly, completely innocent, “my gym room. Where I train. You’d probably like it. I could show you what I do, explain stuff.”
I nodded a bit too fast:
“Yeah. That, yeah, that could be nice. I mean I don't usually go to g...”
But then his eyes lit up again.
“Actually no! Wait! I’ve got a better idea.”
Of course he did.
“There’s this climbing gym I love,” he said, gesturing with his hands as if the walls were already there. “It’s sick bro. You could watch me climb, tell me if I’m doing things right. Encourage me and all that. And I could help you out too!”
I swallowed.
“And,” he went on, clearly proud of himself now, “you know muscles and stretching way better than I do. So you could tell me what to train more, what to loosen up. Maybe help me stretch after. You know. Classic bro massage at the end.”
He said all of this with complete sincerity. And oh boy his gaze on me showed everything: he knew he had me invested already. He knew I was down to be his own private coach again, fully dedicated to his gains (and his relaxation).
My belly burned with anticipation, warm and nervous all at once:
“I’d… love that,” I said, trying not to sound as eager as I felt. "Love some climbing actually."
He grinned, satisfied:
“Knew it bro. Next time, it’s my turn to take care of things then.”
The way he fucking said that (goofy, determined, proud), made my heart do something stupid. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, solid and friendly.
“Alright, bro,” he said. “Next date’s on me.”
I watched him walk away after that, still smiling, already picturing him on a climbing wall, already knowing I’d be there, cheering him and totally salivating over his juicy butt and tasty cock dangling in the air.
Next Monday, after my last yoga session, I showed up at his spot, a gritty warehouse gym buzzing with chalk dust and grunts. Not my favorite smells in the world too, vey artificial and plastic-smelling all around. But hey, you gotta' chase the bro up to his den.
Of course I arrived on time.
And of course Mason was already halfway up the wall.
He was on a hard route too: one of those red tracks that made you question your life choices. Difficult holds, steep overhang and super long reaches.
I stood there for a second just watching him in his natural element.
He wasn’t… technical. Anyone who actually watched competitions (my own guilty pleasure during breaks) could tell that. His footwork was a bit messy, his hips too square, not much flagging or precise edging. But then he just seemed to power through steps that shouldn’t have worked: thick arms locking off on crimps, muscly legs helping him through moves that were clearly meant to be delicate.
Mason was already midway up a brutal overhang route, his black tank top soaked through, clinging to those massive arms and thick back like a second skin. I couln't control my gaze on those armpits. I could tell how wet his hair was around there, even from a distance.
Sweat poured off him in rivers, dripping from his buzzed hair down that powerful neck, pooling at the waistband of his shorts and between his asscheeks.
I quickly spotted the outline of his huge dick swinging free in those loose shorts.
No underwear, as usual.
Fuck this dude was really tempting me. And every living person around too!
He locked off one-handed, muscles bulging, veins popping like ropes under his skin, then hauled himself over the lip with a triumphant roar.
"Yeah man! Bravo!" I congratulated him.
Eventually, he rappelled down fast, landing heavy on the mats, chest heaving, that confused charm lighting his face as he slapped my shoulder hard enough to jolt me:
“Sorry,” he said, completely unapologetic. “But I HAD to try that one.”
Up close, he was radiating heat, chalk dust on his hands, breathing heavy but relaxed. That post-climb glow was doing dangerous things to my brain.
“That route was way above my grade man, congrats,” I said. "Seemed difficult for you too."
He shrugged. “Yeah. But it was calling me.”
Of course it was.
He grabbed his bottle, took a huge drink, then looked back at the wall:
“Okay. Next one, you’re telling me exactly what to do, right bro?”
And just like that, I was standing in a climbing gym, acting like a proper spotter, cheering on my cimbing buddy, shouting him hints he sometimes needed when he lacked vision:
“Left foot higher,” I would call out.
“No, your left, yeah, that one.”
“You can flag with the right leg there.”
“That hold’s better than it looks, trust it.”
He actually listened. Nodded. Tried again.
“Bro,” he puffed, “you’re good at this.”
I shrugged:
“I mean, you’re strong enough to make bad decisions work. I'm not that usefull”
"Bullshit bro!" He shouted while finishing his track. "You're lifesaver!"
We (well mostly him) climbed for almots two hours: me fumbling easier routes while he crushed the advanced walls, his body a machine of raw power, thighs flexing thick as tree trunks with every pull-up and foot jam.
He also enjoyed encouraging me and guiding me through harder steps.
I can't deny I thought about his gaze on my ass too. I wondered if he was actually looking at my butt while I was climbing.
By the end, we were both drenched.
"Sauna time, bro," he said, wiping his brow with a meaty forearm. "Gotta loosen these glutes. Climbing wrecked 'em."
I nodded, pulse quickening at the thought of sharing a steamy room with this stud.
We went to the lockers and I tried not to stare too much at his body.
"I need that massage so bad dude!" He winked at me while grabbing a towel out of his gym bag.
Mason didn't hesitate. He peeled off his tank top (which turned out to be difficult with how damp and sticky it was), revealing that broad, hairy chest glistening under the dim light, nipples so thick and juicy I had to restrain myself from grabbing and squeeze the sweat out of them.
Fuck. His pecs were so fucking round and thick.
Then the shorts dropped.
Kicking them aside with his socks, standing there fully naked, unashamed.
His body was a masterpiece.
His powerful frame was truly carved from years of lifting and climbing, abs ridged deep, that half hard uncut cock hanging heavy between tree-trunk thighs, maybe reaching 6 inches and already leaking. His balls were low and full, swinging with each step.
The sweat beaded on his skin, tracing paths down his treasure trail to the dark bush at his base, the musky scent of his exertion hit me immediatly, making my mouth water.
"Come on, you owe me a massage bro!"
Since when man? Damn his more confident side was hot.
I quickly followed him to the back where the steam rooms waited. He went for the last one, misty heat seeping under the door:
He pushed in first, the slap of his palm on my ass catching me off guard: firm, playful, his big hand lingering a beat too long on my cheek through my sweats:
"'C'mon, don't lag, bro!" he laughed, clueless as ever, that inviting bro vibe pulling me deeper into his world.
This dude is just too much.
The heat of the sauna hit me even before I stepped inside. It was like entering a dark and soothing furnace. Eucalyptus thick in the air, benches slick with condensation. The room was empty. It felt so intimate sharing this tiny space with such a beast.
He sprawled on the upper bench over his towel, legs spread wide, ass cheeks flexing as he settled, that massive dick flopping under.
He didn't bother looking at me and immediatly shut his eyes, inviting me to join him:
"Hit me with that massage magic. Glutes and legs are screaming, bro."
I sat beside him on the lower bench, eager to have his sweaty bubble butt in my hands.
His cock was wedged beneath his muscular body, turned towards me, the glans pressed against the bench by his heavy pair of glistening nuts.
My hands went to work on those glutes fast, fingers digging into the thick, sweat-slick muscle, kneading deep. His ass was rock-hard from the climbs, cheeks parting slight under my grip, revealing the dark cleft between, that puckered hole hidden. It was hairy and the musk was very srong, quickly filling my nostrils.
"You did so good today man." I told him calmly. "Proud of you."
"Thanks bro, I appreciate. You were great at spotting me too." He answered, sighing under my massage. "Wish I had met you earlier honestly. Would have speedrunned' this climbing gym in no time with your yoga magic."
As he was praising my coaching skills, I worked on his glutes with care, thumbs pressing circles into the tension, feeling him sigh heavy, his cock twitching from time to time near my wrists.
"So glad I met you man." He said, voice low.
I slid lower, massaging his quads: big veined slabs of power. Then I moved to his calves, my palms slick with his sweat, tracing up the insides of his thighs until my knuckles brushed his heavy balls.
"You know, I always th.... Fuuuck yeah, right there," he suddenly groaned.
His dick responded, swelling gradual, the foreskin pulling back to show the fat helmet peeking out between his hairy cheeks, pre already beading at the slit.
The heat in the sauna amplified everything: the slap of skin on wood as he shifted, the drip of sweat from his sack, his low grunts mixing with the hiss of steam.
I couldn't hold back anymore.
I went over him, climbing on top of his sweaty body on the upper bench, my hard dick almost brushing against his thigh. I positioned myself, his butt crack perfectly aligned with my mouth. It was so tempting.
He didn't move or say anything.
My hands returned to his ass, spreading those cheeks wider, exposing his tight, pink hole, smooth and untouched, clenching under the humid air.
Looking at a straight buddy's asshole is perhaps the most intimate thing there is. It's a place that no one else is supposed to see. Most dudes barely touch it in their life except to clean it and for medical exams. Most dudes don't even know about how good it can feel when it's stimulated.
His butthole was like a secret garden opening for me and me alone. All his previous girlfriends had probably never touched it, and me, his new gymbro, I had the right to.
I was so lucky and excited to have this privilege.
And I didn't want to waste the opportunity:
"Mason, bro, there's a deeper spot I can hit if you want. To release that core tension you know," I murmured, voice steady but laced with hunger, leaning in close. "That would be okay?"
"Do your magic... trust you bro." He said, almost weakly as my breath was dangerously close to his ass.
I dove tongue-first, flat and wet against his hole. The taste hit me so hard I almost came right there.
He jolted upright, powerful body tensing like he'd been shocked:
"Whoa, what the fuck, bro?"
I immediately withdrew, my tongue still hanging out, covered in the juice that bathed his ass.
"That's... shit, that's my ass, bro!" Panic edged his voice, that confusion twisting into wide-eyed alarm, his hands gripping the bench edges, cock wilting halfway in shock.
"Stay cool bro. I know it feels weird... but that's how we do it." I explained, my hands still massaging his asscheeks. "It's to reach deeper in the glutes."
"I mean... fucking nasty down there man." he hesitated. "why would you tongue..."
I knew it. He was virgin from any butt stuff.
"Don't worry about it man. That's a sauna thing."
"Really?"
He was so cute, really trying to find the logic behind my tongue in his ass.
"Yeah, it's called Climber Cooldown Deluxe.” I tried.
Yeah, I don't know how I actually came up with such a name so fast lol.
“Serious? Bro, that sounds so good. Deluuuxe and shit.”
“It is,” I replied, completely serious. “Very advanced. Very exclusive."
He laughed, then immediately stopped when I stretched his asscheeks again:
“Oh, wait bro,” he said, surprised. “You’re actually doing it?”
I nodded and started working slowly. tongue probing gentle but insistent, pushing past the initial resistance, swirling wet around the tight ring, feeling it flutter under my assault.
“Man,” he muttered after a moment. "Never had anyone... do this for me before. Feels so wrong.”
I pulled my tongue back for a moment, just to reassure him:
“It’s pretty normal, actually. You’ve never seen people massaging their bros in a sauna? That’s classic stuff. Japan, Nordic countries. Totally normal.”
He frowned slightly, thinking about it.
“…Huh,” he said. “Didn’t know that. Not in the butt I mean.”
“Yeah,” I went on casually. "It's just deep tissue: opens up the pelvis like we talked"
His shoulders dropped another inch. His breathing deepened.
“Fuuck...,” he said after a bit, voice softer now, “It feels wrong but good in a weird way.”
That sentence did something to me, even though he said it so simply, like he had just given me more of his trust. I could do anything to him now.
He closed his eyes, leaning forward slightly, finally letting himself relax completely. No jokes. No comments. Just warmth, quiet, and the steady rhythm of someone who had decided, without overthinking it, that all this was okay.
His hole started relaxing bit by bit, muscles unclenching as I speared deeper, fucking him with the tip, tasting the heat inside.
"Oh... fuck," he muttered, voice cracking from panic to a low rumble, his ass pushing back tentative against my face. "So fuck... weird."
The macho front crumbled slow; his cock surged back to life between his thighs, hardening full. His legs spread wider, a confused groan escaping as he let go, finally accepting the pleasure, that clueless bro shell cracking open to the raw sensation of my tongue buried in his ass, rimming him relentless in the misty heat."
"Brooo, that's so fucked up but I feel it's helping. Don't stop."
This Deluxe massage was going to be a memorable moment for shure...
