The Exhibitionist and his Voyeur

Anthony, Anthony, Anthony. What's ever going to become of you? Never closing your bedroom draperies! What would your mother say? I'm sure she taught you better than that.

There you are, preparing your entrance like some Hollywood starlet. Walk toward the window, Anthony. Swagger just a bit and make your big cock sway. Watching your swaying cock makes my cock tingle, but then you knew that, didn't you? Swing your monster cock and your big balls. Which do you like better, Anthony; the feel of your monster cock and big balls swinging freely like that or knowing that I am watching their dance?

Now, turn slowly. That's right. Jut your cute little ass out for me. You're so beautiful, Anthony. You have a great ass. I think that must be part of your Italian heritage. When David came back from Milan he told me that all Italian men have great asses. That can't be true, but it's a lovely thought.

Lift your arms over your head, Anthony. That shows off your biceps so well. Twist your torso. Now, look back over your shoulder. Lovely play of muscle under Mediterranean-bronze skin!

What's the matter, Anthony? Why did you stop your show so suddenly? Doorbell, huh? Better grab your robe and let her in.

* * *

Do you remember our first time, Anthony? That early summer afternoon? I bet you do. Tom and the other boys who helped you move in had all gone home, and you were alone, drying off after your first shower in your new apartment. You were facing the big bedroom window, toweling your hair. Your biceps flexed as you fluffed your long black curls, and the muscles of your abdomen and sides undulated under your flawless skin. You tossed your handsome head from side to side like a proud lion. Then you looked through your window and saw me watching you.

I surprised you, didn't I, Anthony? You were angry when you realized I had been watching you all along. You stomped toward your window. That was the first time I ever saw your cock sway. It's a long one even when it's soft. Thick, too. Very nice! You reached up to pull the drapery cord, but then you stopped. You stood there with your arm raised, poised like a Roman statue, and watched me watching you. Your hand held the cord but you didn't pull it. Instead, you looked down at your big cock and back at me, and you began to rub your pubic bush. That made your cock dance. You turned a little and pushed your balls out. I could see them clearly then. They were big and heavy looking. Beautiful!

Then you looked away. You pretended you didn't know I was watching. You turned sideways and started jacking your cock. With catlike movements you gyrated as you rubbed your chest and stomach, your cock growing in your right hand to truly impressive size. You did it like a man in a video Mark showed me once. I don't have any dirty movies, Anthony. You're my dirty movie.

You backed onto the bed and arched your back off the mattress. You pounded your meat making your balls bounced crazily. You lowered your back, lifted your feet off the bed and spread your legs wide, showing me your asshole. You looked at me watching you as you fingered your hairy hole with the fingers of your left hand and pounded your cock with your right. When you got close, you closed your eyes, lowered your legs and stroked your cock with long, luxurious movements, twisting your fist over your glans at the top of each stroke. Your balls bounced less and less as they tightened into a beautiful knot high against your body, and then you finally shot your load. Do you remember that load, Anthony? Probably not. I do, though. It was huge. Your cock spurted jet after jet of creamy cum that arched high and spattered against your headboard. I know you must have been moaning.

You really got off with me watching you, didn't you, Anthony? I know you did. You still do. Pig!

* * *

Mmm!. She's quite pretty, Anthony. Tall and svelte. Nothing but the best for you, huh? Very classy.

I remember her. You don't bring home many black women. She's the one who gave you a fit because you refused to close your draperies. It was a hard-won battle, and you did it just for me, didn't you, Anthony? Yeah! Right!

You're in a playful mood tonight, aren't you, Anthony? You can tickle and tease a little, but you'd better be careful. She doesn't seem to like it much. She's too sophisticated for a lot of horseplay.

* * *

Hey, Anthony! What ever happened to Tom? He was a nice guy. And pretty. Not much into exhibitionism, though, was he? And he probably didn't have a queer bone in his body. I know it took a lot of finesse for you to arrange his rare appearances. I really appreciate that.

I loved watching those few times the two of you tussled around on the floor. You'd wrestle him out of his clothes as you nonchalantly slipped out of your shorts and jockstrap, your cock already hard. You're so clever. I think you could get the pope naked if you wanted to. Then the two of you would play grab-ass like a couple of horny teenagers. You'd roll around until you'd get him in a hold with your hard cock in his face. He'd laugh and try to throw you off, but you're stronger and he was never able to do it.

It's too bad Tom never got an erection. You should have tried harder with him instead of just playing like prepubescent children. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed watching your show as much as you enjoyed putting it on. Your instant erection let me know just how much you enjoyed it. I have the feeling you'd have fucked him if he'd let you. Horn dog!

* * *

Kiss her deeply, Anthony. Is your tongue in her mouth? I'm sure it must be.

She doesn't like it much when you muss her hair, does she? Now's the time to take off her dress. Pulling it over her head will just muss her hair more. Then she can pat it down and make everything all right again.

Now, reach behind her and unhook the bra. That's right, Anthony. Slip it off. This one has little tits. She hardly needs a bra. I like that. Big tits flop around too much. Very distracting!

* * *

Ron and I were talking late one night in our dorm room about our reaction to puberty. I told him that when I was twelve or thirteen, in addition to my genitals growing and my getting body hair, that my nipples puffed out and got hard. They were sensitive when I touched them and I thought I had cancer. He chuckled and told me that the same thing had happened to him, only he thought that he was turning into a hermaphrodite. God, did we laugh.

You remind me a lot of Ron, Anthony. His muscles were shapely, developed and well-defined without being massive. Some time during our second semester we started giving each other back rubs which gradually turned into massages. He always massaged me first. He was good. He'd massage my muscles with long, hard strokes. I would lie still and enjoy all that attention. Then it would be my turn.

I loved massaging Ron. I would slick him up with oil and rub and caress his muscles. Each time, I would do something I hadn't done before, and he would do that same thing to me next time. I remember the first time I massaged his butt. I thought he might stop me when I stated to take off his boxers, but instead he lifted his hips and I slid them off. He had big balls and they hung lower than any of the other guys I ever checked out in the shower room. I thought the sight of those balls lying on the bed between his meaty thighs was about the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I still think that.

Ron's was the first butt I ever touched. I still remember the cool, velvety feel of it, and I can still see the curve that started gently at two dimples on the small of his back and rose to graceful mounds that domed and fell quickly to end with creases at the tops of his legs. His crack divided his mounds perfectly, and I spread them slightly with the heels of my hands as I massaged. I alternately kneaded the firm but pliable muscles and glided my palms over those exquisite curves. That first time, when I woke from my reverie and became aware of how much time I had been lavishing on his butt, I was embarrassed, but then I realized that he was not complaining. I don't know which one of us enjoyed it more.

We were always hard during our sessions. At first we tried to hide our boners from each other, but after a while it became apparent that that was futile. He didn't balk the first time I took his cock in my oily hand and started to jack. His piss tube must have been full of precum. On the first upstroke it came oozing out. I looked at his face, but his eyes were closed. The more I stroked the faster he breathed, and his abs tensed in high relief. He was really beautiful. I slid my hand up and down and squeezed as it glided over his glans. He jerked once and started to shoot the biggest load I think I ever saw. It must have shot three feet straight up and plopped back down over my pumping hand and his bouncing balls.

The first blow job wasn't long to follow. It was clumsy by later standards, and Ron let me know when I scraped his shaft with my teeth, but I learned quickly. I held the base of his cock in my hand and laved the top two or three inches with my tongue before I tried to deep-throat him, and when I finally went the whole way down, I gagged and choked on his knobby cock head, so I backed off and just held it in my mouth. Soon he thrust his hips upward in sharp little jabs and came in acrid spurts on my tongue. I loved the feel and taste of him. Everything seemed so natural, like I was born to suck cock.

I often think of Ron and wonder what his life is like. I hope he remembers me too. I bet he does.

* * *

And what about you, Anthony? Do you fondly remember even one woman you've loved? Have you ever loved anyone? Were they people you ever cared about at all, or were they just convenient cunts to fuck? I hate to think it, my friend, but I'm very much afraid that you're the love-'em-and-leave-'em type. And probably proud of it. You are, aren't you? Prick!

Is she giving you good head, Anthony? You seem to like it. Turn her face a little so I can see your hard cock in her painted mouth. I want to see that sturdy shaft. That's it. I can see fine now.

Sway, Anthony. Isn't it about time to grab her head and fuck her mouth? I thought so. You don't need to look over here to check on me. I'm still watching. Wipe that shitty grin off your face and get back into the moment. Now, throw your head back and close your eyes. Fuck her mouth. I love the way a standing fuck makes your butt round out and look so hard.

* * *

Ben once told me that I gave the best head of anyone he ever knew. He used to hang around the john at Dempsey's Truck Stop. I guess a compliment from someone with that kind of experience ought to be worth something.

Ben much preferred standing blow jobs to any other kind. It was a dominance thing; it gave him a feeling of power to tower over me the way he did. I'd kneel in front of him and watch as he slowly unbuttoned his 501s and take out his uncut nine inches. I'd open my mouth like a hungry nestling and wait for him to feed me.

Sometimes he would play with me, slapping my face with his rubbery shaft. He liked to peel back his foreskin and rub the sensitive underside of his cock over my extended tongue and poke his cheesy glans around the back of my throat before I'd closed my lips around his veiny shaft. That's when I'd take over.

I'd nibble his glans and slide his corona in and out through tightly pressed lips. I'd take only the first few inches because I wanted to feel that rubbery ridge with my tongue and cheeks before suddenly burying my nose in his smelly thatch and constricting my throat around his throbbing head. I liked to work him to the point of ejaculation and then hold him loosely in the pool of saliva and precum that had accumulated in my mouth and wait for his eagerness to ebb. Then I'd start the process all over again.

Sometimes I would crawl under him and lick through the wiry hairs that grew thickly on his inner thighs. Eventually I'd take his pendulous balls into my mouth and maybe even spread his cheeks and lick his hole, but Ben was usually pretty insistent on getting off and wanted most of my attention on is cock.

When he was ready to shoot, he'd grab my head and twist it around as he repeatedly forced his glans past my soft palate and down my throat. I'd grab his ass. And he'd fuck and grind his hips forcefully against my face. I loved the feel of his hard ass flexing in my hands. Sometimes he'd let me work my fingers into his crack and touch his pucker, but not often. He had one hard ass. He was one hard-ass, too.

Ben always liked coming in my mouth - well, down my throat, actually. I'd ask him sometimes if we couldn't do something different - you know, something more. But he liked what he liked and let's face it: he was in charge, and he wasn't wild about ass fucking, especially when it was his ass being fucked. I was happy as long as he was happy. Giving pleasure is as important getting it, and I got plenty of pleasure servicing Ben.

You'd agree that giving pleasure is important, wouldn't you, Anthony? No? Guess not. I've watched you manipulate and browbeat until you got your way, even when the poor girl hated what you were doing. Bastard!

* * *

Agh! No, Anthony, don't do that! It's disgusting. And don't look over here and laugh. Your friend will wonder what the hell's wrong with you. I'm going to get a beer. You know I hate when you eat pussy.

I know there's no logic to it, Anthony. Eating assholes has got to be less hygienic than eating pussy. But sex is not a logical proposition, now is it?

* * *

It's been my experience that guys love to have their assholes eaten; maybe excepting Ben and a few others. But no one loved it as much as Jim.

Jim had one of those great bubble butts, and it was covered with soft blond down that segued into coarse curls right around his hole. We'd be naked in bed and start to kiss and fondle each other. He's twist and squirm until we were chest to chest with him on top. Both of my hands were free then to slip around his sides to his ass. I'd slowly describe spiraling circles over the furry mounds of his butt, my fingers inching closer to his crack with each arc until I would slice through his warm crevice and eventually make contact with his sweet spot. He's stop his squirming and flex his butt muscles, and I'd finger-fuck him in that not-very-convenient position until I could wriggle my way from under him and get behind, mouth to asshole. Then I could play in earnest.

I loved cupping Jim's ass cheeks in my palms and spreading them wide to expose his asshole. The first sight of those blond curls surrounding his pink pucker always made my cock jump, and I would lower my mouth to nibble my favorite tidbit.

I always lingered over the first kiss. I would kiss and bite and suck, wetting is hole and the surrounding flesh, and then I would lick it almost dry again. I sucked his hole like I was trying to get the puckered lips into my mouth, and I tongue-fucked him until we were both ready for fingers.

He liked it when I would stick my forefinger just inside his hole and pinch my way around its rubbery ring. Then I'd insert the forefinger of my other hand and spread the ring open so I could see up his chute. I frequently licked his fleshy mounds to keep them lubricated, and he would sometimes pass me a tube of K-Y if the friction if fingers against opening was too great. Then I would stick one finger up his ass as deeply as I could, and soon I'd add a second, then a third. I'd rotate my forearm as I fucked in and out. I loved watching his cunt stretch and close as my knuckles passed around and through. He liked to come while I played with his pussy and would jack himself, shooting his creamy load onto the bed under his chest. Once in a while he would come spontaneously as I massaged his hard prostate.

After a while, Jim would flatten himself on his tummy, and I would mount him to fuck his slippery hole. I liked as much skin contact as I could get, so I would lie on his broad back to hump his fabulous ass. I'd slip inside easily, and he'd tighten his sphincter around my shaft. I'd make fast, shallow jabs in and out through the opening before changing to deep, forceful thrusts. Then I would repeat the pattern: shallow jabs to deep thrusts, over and over. When I could feel the eruption beginning to boil deep inside me, I'd change to long, easy strokes to prolong the ejaculation and heighten the ecstasy. Finally, when I couldn't hold back any longer, I would push hard against his beautiful ass and pulse my load deeply into him as forcefully as I could.

Sometimes, for variety's sake, Jim would flip onto his back, lift his legs wide and high, wink his pretty hole at me until I kissed and ate and fucked him to climax. Either way, he would squirm and moan, and it never took me long to shoot. His gyrations and moans were probably for my benefit since he had already come.

Jim was a great fuck and a sweet person. I could have fallen for him in a big way, but he wouldn't think of leaving his wife and kids.

Your whores don't tongue-fuck your asshole, do they, Anthony? It's probably something that never crossed your mind. You don't know what you're missing. Jerk!

* * *

This one hasn't quite gotten the routine, has she? You'll have to teach her that when you're on your bed, you start with her on her back and you on top; just like the missionaries told the pagans was right and proper. Christian, even.

Turn her for me. I can't quite see. That's better. Now, fuck her. Lift and thrust, Anthony. Out and in. Lift your beautiful ass high in the air and hold it a second, its perfect roundness silhouetted against the far wall, and drive down hard. Make her scream. Again. Do it, Boy.

Now it's time. Turn her so I can see you between her legs. Let me see your balls bounce and slap off her ass. A little more. Perfect.

Is she juicy, Anthony? Do you like fucking her juicy cunt? Push it in a little from the left, Anthony, and then a little from the right. Probe her juicy cunt from every angle possible. Make your balls swing to the max. I love watching a man's low hanging balls swing while he's fucking away. Fuck her, Boy.

* * *

Can you believe it, Anthony? There was a time when I didn't know the pleasures to be had by being fucked. I was a top and that was that. Period. It's not that I thought I was too macho or too good to be fucked. It's just that from my first masturbation fantasies when I was a teen I thought about fucking my young friends up their asses. I never considered anything else. That was before I met Lee.

Lee took great delight in introducing me to the joys of bottoming. He was the first person to ever touch my pucker, and that first time was electric. I still remember it.

It was only our second date. We went to a Saturday matinee, and since it was raining and neither of us had much money, we ended up back in his basement apartment. It didn't take us much time to get out of our clothes and into bed. We were all over each other, clutching and pawing.

At one point we were in a sixty-nine position with me on the bottom. I was sucking his cock, forcing its engorged head as deeply into my throat as I could get it and constricting my throat muscles around it by swallowing. Lee had one of my big nuts in his mouth and was going after the other one. I spread my legs to give him more room. He moved his hand under my ball sac, grasped my thighs and opened the span between them even more. He glided one hand across my ass and grazed my pucker. I couldn't believe the sensation. He took my moan to mean that I wanted him to enter. He let the captured nut slip from his mouth and before I knew it he had a finger buried as deeply up my ass as it could go. My erection involuntarily bobbed each time he touched my prostate. I lifted my legs and begged for more. He obliged my getting between my thighs and forcing his glans through my sphincter. He held it steady and I stared into space. When he slid it deeper I opened my mouth and spread my arms wide. He'd slip it out a little and push it in a little deeper until he was in to the hilt and fucking me with long, smooth strokes. I was nearly out of control, writhing and moaning like the best of the boys I had ever fucked.

Well, since that long-ago rainy day it's been a toss-up for me as to which I liked better; fucking or being fucked. You won't ever face that dilemma though, will you, Anthony? Looser!

* * *

Now it's time, Anthony. Get serious about this fuck. Good. Spread her legs more. Wriggle your ass. Slam your cock in. You're so big, Anthony, you really fill me up. Your cock is so damn hard.

Now hump, Anthony. Hump me hard. Lift that ass high and slam it home. Pound my ass.

Ahh, Anthony! You're so good. You drive me crazy. I'm squeezing my asshole tight for you. Do you like that? I'd do anything to make it good for you, Anthony.

Fuck me hard. You know what I need. You know how I love to feel your hard cock slamming up my ass, punishing me for being the slut that I am.

Oh, yes! Buck and push it home. Make me squirm. I can take it.

Come inside me, Anthony. I want to feel you pulse your big load deep up my hungry ass. Feed me your seed.

I'm going to come, Anthony. I'm going to come with you. Oh, yes! I'm coming. Fuck me, Anthony. Deeper. Oh, Anthony! Yes!

The cum - it's all over my chest and pooled in my navel. That was a good one, Anthony. You really are one hot fucker.

Why don't you let me . . . her stay the night, Anthony? She'd make you happy in the morning, I'm sure. But you never let anyone stay over night. She's reaching for her lace panties. It must be midnight: the witching hour. Yep. There go the chimes. And there goes the girl.

Ah, Anthony; you're so predictable.

Asshole!