Robert

«3»

By waynoh

I stepped out of the steamy bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist and moved down the hall towards my room. I noticed that Robertís door was shut and I could hear the faint sound of his deep voice talking. "He must still be on the phone," I thought. In a way, I was relieved knowing that the activity of measuring each otherís muscles was delayed, giving me time to recover and compose myself. I slipped on a clean pair of shorts, returned to the living room and flopped down on the couch.

It was a warm day, the windows were open and a gentle breath of air brushed across the exposed flesh of my torso and legs. Visions of Robertís muscular body played over and over again in my mind as I recounted what had just happened between us. His smooth, young body danced in front of me, biceps exploding into tight balls of steel, a roadmap of veins popping out all over his forearms, pecs bulging with deep striations and capped with inviting nipples, abs crunching into symmetrical bricks of stone, lats flaring as if he could glide on a light breeze, quads rippling with cords of beefy muscle, chiseled calves tightening into flesh-covered marble, the high arches and powerful tendons of his strong feet supporting him with an agile grace that seemed super-human. The memory of his hot, silky flesh and its brief contact against my fingertips was making my dick lengthen and swell again.

But, it was Robertís beautiful smile, warm personality and sense of humor that was killing me. At twenty-nine, I had been with my share of more than a few guys, most of them built and handsome, some of them really hot in bed. But, after a few times of heated sex, the novelty would wear off, and each one would be just another pretty face without any personality. And, the few times that I had fallen in love, the relationship suffered, and eventually ended, as I was uncomfortable with anyone aside from my partner knowing that I was gay. Living a covert personal life required me to lie to friends and family, and kept me from truly connecting with anyone. Only, I couldnít see that right now.

What I did begin to see, was that I would need to eventually tell Robert how I felt. The thought was paralyzing, and I decided that I would deal with it later as I faded into a late afternoon nap.

I woke up a couple of hours later, staring at the ceiling. It was early evening and a soft light burned in the corner of the living room.

"Jeff," I heard Robert say. "Are you gonna wake up, man?"

I turned my head and saw Robert standing in the middle of the living room, a dark pair of slacks hugged his hips and butt, his shirtless torso glowed in the warm light. I saw him checking out his reflection in the living room window, and he bounced his pecs a couple of times. I chuckled slightly and Robert turned his gaze towards me.

"Iím going out," he said. "Can I borrow a shirt?"

"Why do you need to borrow a shirt?" I asked.

"I donít have a clean one. I could go like this, but I thought Iíd give the other guys a chance with the babes," he joked.

Robert bounced his right pec, then his left one, and continued to repeat the cycle over and over again, flexing his chest with some internal rhythmic beat. I somehow managed to maintain my composure as I threw a small pillow at him.

"Alright, ĎMusclesí," I said sarcastically. "Save it for the dance floor. Go ahead and find yourself a shirt."

"Thanks, man."

He placed his left fist on his hip and raised his right arm. He watched his reflection in the window again as his right bicep exploded into itís peaked perfection.

"Here I come, ladies."

With that, he faced his flexing arm and pressed his full lips against the tight ball of the steel-hard muscle, kissing it with a loud smack. He turned and bounded out of the living room and down the hall towards my bedroom.

"Holy mother of God," I mumbled to myself.

I sat up and ran my hands through my hair. I could feel a great deal of tension in my shoulders and I rolled my head around, trying to relax. Robert reappeared holding out my pastel blue polyester knit pullover that I loved to wear when I would go out with the intention of getting "picked up."

"Oh, not that one," I protested. "Thatís one of my favorite shirts, man."

"Aw, dude. Please? Let me borrow this one. Iím meeting Katherine and thereís no way sheís going to say Ďnoí when she sees me in this."

"No, man," I argued. "Youíll stretch the @#%$ out of it."

"Please, Jeff. Iíll be careful with it. Besides, if Iíve got her figured out right, I wonít have it on that long, anyway!"

He slipped the shirt over his head and began to tug the straining material over his muscular frame. The short sleeves managed to somehow cap his shoulders, but left his arms exposed, accentuating each cut, bulge and vein. The collar-less opening at the top encircled his thick neck, leading the viewer to focus on his handsome, chiseled features. His perky nipples tested the material that desperately clung to each curve and indentation of his hard muscles. The results would have been the same if I had taken a brush and spread blue paint over his body.

Robert retreated to his room and emerged a few minutes later with shoes on and a jacket slung over his shoulder. At that moment, a horn sounded out on the street, and with a quick, "See ya, bro," he was out the door, the screen banging closed behind him.

"God," I whispered. "I would give anything to be Katherine tonight."

I grabbed the remote and flipped the TV on. I toured around the stations looking for anything that would distract me from the thought of Robertís body and how much I wanted him to @#%$ me. As luck would have it, ESPN had a feature on bodybuilding airing, so I settled back and took in the eye candy.

Just then, the screen door opened and in walked Joe.

"Yo, Jeff. Wassup?"

He headed straight for the refrigerator to grab a beer.

"Christ, Joe. Donít you ever knock?" I asked.

He popped open the beer and rapped his knuckles on the countertop.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Joe strolled into the living room. He was wearing his old familiar faded yellow tank top and pair of baggy shorts. He slumped down onto the other end of the sofa and drained half the can of Bud. I glanced at his bare legs and noticed the teardrops of his quads peaking out from under his shorts. His light brown skin looked silky and smooth over his tight muscles. I returned my gaze to the TV and watched a posedown between competitors of the lightweight division.

"Robertís not here," I said.

"I know," he replied. "I saw him leave."

The tension in my neck and shoulders had increased and I could feel my head start to ache. I rose and crossed the living room towards the kitchen, catching my reflection in the window. And, then I noticed Joeís face reflected as well, secretly checking me out, unaware that I could see his eyes sweeping down my naked back and resting on the bouncing ass-cheeks under my shorts as I entered the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of aspirin out of a cupboard and filled a glass with water. I stole a quick glance of Joe whoís eyes quickly diverted from my chest back to the TV. So. He was checking me out. I popped a couple of tablets and washed them down with the water. I turned to head back to the couch when Joe spoke.

"Hey, man. Bring me another beer, would ya?"

I faked a long, exasperated sigh and answered, "Yes, dear."

That made Joe laugh. I grabbed a can from the fridge and headed back to the sofa, pressing the cold metal into his hand as I sat down. He popped open the beer, took a swig and stared at the screen that was following the routine of a middleweight bodybuilder.

"So, what do ya got? A headache, or something?" Joe asked.

"Just a bit tense," I said. "I guess Iím under a little bit of stress, or something."

"Yeah. No @#%$," Joe retorted. "Every time I see you, you seem pretty wound up. When was the last time you got laid?"

I was stunned at his brazen frankness.

"ThatísÖ none ofÖ yourÖ" I stuttered and stammered. "That has nothingÖ youÖ donít know what youíre talkingÖ what has that got to doÖ I get plenty ofÖ"

"Dude," Joe said calmly. "Relax, man. You are so uptight. It was just a simple question."

We sat there in silence as the middleweight finalists went into the posedown competition. I realized that Joe was right. I was tense all over and I noticed that I was hardly breathing. The events of today had taken their toll and I felt like I was on the verge of going crazy. That thought was interrupted, once again, by Joe.

"That dude in the center looks just like you," he said. "Same curly blonde hair, same blue eyes, same build."

"Oh, please," I sputtered. "That guyís way bigger than me."

"If you gained a little more size, you two could be twins. But, your bodyís hot enough without getting bigger."

Alright. I wasnít so stupid to not recognize that he just hit on me. I continued to stare at the TV screen unsure of what to say. Joe was one sexy bastard, but I really felt the need to be cautious. If we had met at a club, I probably would have hit on him within seconds of seeing him. But, this was different. He was a neighbor who knew a lot about me, and would know even more if we ended up @#%$. And, that would risk Robert finding out about me. I rolled my head, hoping to stretch the tension of my tightening neck. My traps seemed to involuntarily squeeze and pull my shoulders up and in. My breathing was labored and shallow, my heart was racing.

Joe eased himself across the couch, moving up next to me, his warm body pressing lightly against my left side.

"Here," he said in a voice, soft and gentle. "Let meÖ"

He placed his right hand on the back of my neck. His callused palm was warm as it gripped gently against the base of my skull. His thumb began to press and massage the tightness of the tendons supporting my head. His fingers lightly glided over, pressed and kneaded the knotted-up muscles of my neck and traps. I continued to stare at the TV, completely unaware of the action being broadcast and barely breathing.

"Wow," Joe said. "Youíre really tight. Here. Sit down on the floor in front of me."

"No, thatís okay," I said, offering some resistance.

"Hey, man. I can really help you here. Iíve learned some great massage techniques, being a gymnast and all."

"Youíre a gymnast?" I asked.

"Yeah. Iím in my second year at UCLA. You didnít know that? I thought Robert would have told you."

As I slipped down to sit on the floor I realized that, other than Joe spending time drinking beer supplied by his older brother in my apartment and suspecting that he had a crush on Robert, I knew nothing about him. Joe sat behind me on the sofa, placing a muscular leg on either side of me.

"Robert hasnít told me anything about you," I lied. Of course, Robert had told me about Joe taking him to that club and that he was pretty sure that Joe was gay. But, I thought it was best to play stupid as a sneaky plan was unfolding in my mind.

The silky smooth skin of his bulging calves pressed against my arms as Joe placed his warm hands on my traps. The familiar stirring of my groin stole my attention from the television and my head fell forward as Joeís strong hands manipulated the melting muscles in my neck, traps and shoulders.

"Damn, that feels good," I murmured, as his gentle, but firm touch eased the tension from my body.

"Thereís not much thatís better than a great massage after a three or four hour workout in the gym," Joe said, a softness in his voice that I was unused to hearing. "Itís especially helpful after an hour or two on the rings."

I envisioned his tight body straining during an intense workout, his muscles popping out and knotting up as he moved through his routine, a slight sheen of moisture glowing over his rippling, smooth skin. He continued to squeeze and glide his hands over my burning flesh as my breathing expanded and helped to slide me into total relaxation.

"You have such a beautiful body," Joe whispered.

An awkward silence followed as I was unable to find the words to respond. A slight fear replaced my horniness as I realized that I was placing myself in danger of discovery, that Robert might find out about my homosexuality from this boy I was so wary of. I had to be ten years older than Joe and familiar with my powers of seduction when I met a young man I wanted to sleep with. Yet, this time the tables were turned as he was clearly seducing me. I felt myself slipping into the depths of unbridled lust as he continued to wear down my resistance with his sensuous touch.

"Why donít you lay down on the couch so I can work on your back," Joe offered.

I moved up and stretched out face-down on the sofa, resting my head on my arms. Joe had stood up and was standing over me.

"You wouldnít have any baby oil, or something like that, would you?" Joe asked.

I thought for a second.

"I think thereís some in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom," I said.

"Donít move."

With that, Joe trotted out of the living room and returned shortly with a small bottle.

"Found it," he said. "Youíre gonna like this."

I knew he was standing over me again, but my face was positioned in a way that I couldnít see him. I heard him moving with some slight rustling and then noticed his tank top falling next to my head on the cushion. I had never seen Joe with his shirt off before and I fought the urge to turn my head back to take in his body. I thought that would be giving away too much information as I initiated my plan and began playing the role of a "naÔve straight boy," feigning innocence as Joe continued his dance of seduction. I was imagining that Joe was thinking that, since he was unsuccessful at getting the Stud Robert into bed, he might as well go for the Older Jock Roommate. That fantasy immediately evaporated as I felt Joe straddle my body and sit his bubble butt down on top of my ass.

"Itís easier for me to get to your back this way," Joe explained. "Is this going to be okay for you?"

In my mind, I was yelling, "Hell, yeah, itís okay!" But, I hesitated, then replied, "UmÖ itís okayÖ I guess."

Joe rubbed his hands together and then pressed his slick warm palms in the center between my shoulder blades and began to slide them over my broad, muscled back. His oily fingers pressed and squeezed as they glided over my wide lats, his thumbs working the tight corded muscles along my deep spinal column, his palms grinding into the firm knots of my lower back. Occasionally, he would press his hands down hard on my back by placing a good portion of his weight over me, and then seductively slid his lubricated palms up the entire length of my relaxing muscles, his butt lifting up off of mine. Then he would gently sit back down on my ass as he ran his slick fingers down, outlining each muscle and contour, subtly wiggling his hips and grinding his butt cheeks into mine. I was teetering on the edge and knew that it wouldnít take much more before I would lose all control, take this college athlete and screw his hot little gymnast ass. My dick was like a lead pipe, trapped in my shorts and being driven into the sofa each time Joe sat down on me, with a slow, steady rhythm building. He finally broke the silence.

"Iíll do your legs now. You probably should go ahead and take your shorts off so I wonít get any oil on them."

"Nah, thatís okay, dude," I said.

Joe got up as he said, "I guess you didnít like the back massage."

I couldnít really tell if his was disappointed or if this was all part of his seduction.

"No, man," I protested. "It was really great. Itís just thatÖ Iím not wearing any underwear."

I turned my head to look at Joe to gauge his disappointment and tried, although I think unsuccessfully, to mask my shock and amazement at his stunning body. His skin was a light brown that seemed to absorb all of the light in the room, and then reflect it back with a warm satiny glow. He was not as built as Robert, but his muscles were sleek, tight and super defined. His pecs were rounded and full, each with a dark brown nipple pushing out from his muscular chest as if to test the temperature. His washboard stomach seemed to be in a constant state of flexing, although Joe was clearly relaxed. His lats were thick, forcing his beefy arms forward. His baggy shorts were hanging low on his tiny waist, a few wisps of black hair peeking over the waistband, and his hard-on was pressing out against the material. With every effort I could muster, I slowly turned my gaze away from Joeís serious expression and placed my head back down on my arms. If I knew my dick, it was probably drooling by now.

"Thatís okay." Joe said. "Itís the way we do it at the gym all the time."

I heard a zipper and some rustling behind me.

"Just so you wonít feel uncomfortable, Iíll take my shorts off, too," he said matter-of-factly.

Joeís shorts landed next to his tank top, just inches from my face. The tiniest of sensors in my skin could feel the heat from his shorts wash over my face. My nose took in the heady fragrance of where those shorts had been. I wanted to grab them and bury my face in the crotch, using them as a pillow while Joe continued to work my body. Damn, he was good. I knew now that, if Joe were to stop and say that he was going back to his apartment, I would leap up, grab his hot body, force him down onto the sofa and take his bubble butt. Of course, as it would turn out, Joe had no intention of leaving before getting his prize. I would find out later that this was one of a few techniques that he would use to seduce many of the straight boys at school. And, right now, he was pretty sure I was straight.

I felt his hands tugging at the legs of my shorts. I lifted my ass into the air and reached down to unfasten the button and lower the zipper. Being face down on the sofa, I knew this must be quite a view for Joe as he pulled my shorts down my legs, exposing my smooth, white butt. I heard a faint gasp from him as he dropped my shorts on the floor, squeezed some more oil into his hands and rubbed them together. He worked my calf muscles individually, clasping my left lower leg and digging his thumbs deeply and gently into the tightness of the hard fibers, then repeating the work for the right one. After finishing there, his strong, slick hands slid slowly up to my hamstring. Waves of pleasure shot up through my body causing my @#%$ to throb. I wanted so much to look at Joe, to see him in his nakedness, to see his arms ripple and bulge as he continued to manipulate my body with his talented hands. Joe gripped my right upper leg and worked his thumbs over the granite-like ridges of my hamstrings, moving slowly upward towards my ass. His moist left hand squeezed my inner thigh, the side of his index finger making purposeful contact with my nut sack and @#%$ root. My ass flexed and drove my boner into the sofa as I let out a soft moan.

Joe worked his hands up my left hamstring, repeating the same seductive moves. Only this time, I knew what was coming and quivered in anticipation, waiting for the moment when his finger would make contact with my balls and rub along the root of my dick. My breathing was quick and irregular. Joe, sensing my enjoyment, delayed his touch on my nuts, stopping just short of the pleasure I wanted. I began to whimper, wanting to beg him to touch my balls. I wiggled my butt, trying to drive my crotch closer to his gripping hands. At last he raked the finger along the root, and took my nuts into his hand. I let out a deep grunt, arched my back, shoving my ass into the air as his greasy hands rolled, squeezed and tugged at my scrotum.

"Oh, @#%$!" I moaned as Joe pressed his face into the crack of my ass, his tongue darting and licking, searching for my hole. He released my nuts and placed his hands on my cheeks, pulling them apart as I shoved my butt against his face. Finding his target, Joeís lips kissed and his tongue stabbed at my tight little bung hole. Now he was moaning while I wriggled and gyrated my slick crack around Joeís lapping tongue and sucking mouth, my hand reaching back, clamping down on his head and forcing his face deep into my ass.

Joe ate my butt for quite a while before begging me to turn over. I flipped onto my back and was able to see him completely naked for the first time.

"Oh, God," I whispered.

Joe squeezed more oil into his right hand and, while bending over and taking my dick between those full lips and sucking it into his throat, ran his slick fingers into the crack of his beautiful bubble butt and began to stick them into his tight little hole. His deep brown eyes looked into mine as he swallowed my dick, mashing his nose into my pubes. He continued to fi[email protected]#%$ himself while he ran his left hand up my torso and began squeezing my pecs and tweaking my nipples. Joe drew his head up, raking his soft lips up the length of my boner, his tongue rubbing the underside. I placed both my hands on his head and pressed it firmly down, feeling my pole push into his tight throat, his chin crushing my balls. He kept my @#%$ deep in his gullet and ran his hand over my abs until it looked as if he would pass out. Finally, coming up for air, he sat up, grabbed my hard-on in his hand and began to stroke it, spreading his thick saliva all over the head and shaft. Removing his fingers from his lubed up sphincter, Joe straddled my hips and guided my rod to the opening of his butt hole.

Up to this point, my hands had not touched Joeís incredible body. There was no more time to delay as I knew that I would not last long with this gorgeous gymnast bouncing on my dick. I ran my hands slowly up his quads of stone, feeling them shake as Joe pressed his unyielding hole against the tip of my swollen prick. As he lowered himself a fraction of an inch with each moment, my palms slid up around his tiny waist and roved over his rippling stomach. His thick, uncut @#%$ pointed towards the ceiling as if searching for its own hole to fill, his nuts churning and drawing closer to his root. Joe let out a deep, long breath and his super-tight ass ring relented and allowed the head of my dick to enter his slick, hot chute.

Just like the wooden horses on a merry-go-round, Joe moved up and down my pole slowly at first, then gradually picked up the pace. His clutching butt-hole pulled and massaged my stiff boner, making it drool and throb. His hands took mine and pressed them into his chest, grinding them into his pecs, urging me to squeeze and fondle the firm muscles and brush my palms across his tight nipples. I began to meet his hard butt as it came down on my crotch, thrusting my hips up, driving my @#%$ deeper into his tight little gymnast hole.

We @#%$ this way for a few minutes, longer than I had expected considering the view of this muscular boy bouncing on my rod. Then, Joe leaned forward, his hunky body sliding against mine, our sweat and the oil from his massage lubricating our smooth skin. My arms hugged tightly around his broad back and I began to @#%$ into him harder and faster. Joeís bulging biceps dug into my neck as he locked his powerful arms around my head. His dick ground between our crunching abs as I continued to pummel his young ass with my tool.

His muscular body suddenly tensed and he cried out, "Iím gonna cum!" He pounded his ass against my hips as he shuddered and moaned, his arms grabbing me tightly. I felt his hot jizz spray across my abs and chest as he grunted uncontrollably. My @#%$ swelled and jerked, clamped tight in his spasming bung hole as my seed began to squirt into him, my thick semen filling his insides. I moaned loudly as my body shook with the intensity of my heavy orgasm. My arms gripped Joe tightly as his young muscular body melted into my embrace, hot spunk continuing to pulse out of his straining dick onto my heaving torso. My balls pumped hot cum into his ravaged hole. There was too much for his little butt to contain, my semen leaking down into my pubes and over my spent nuts.

Joe and I lay there for quite some time without saying a word. Our breathing relaxed and I gently swept my hands over the contours of his muscular back. My @#%$ slowly softened and eventually popped out of Joeís recovering @#%$. More time passed and I felt awkward as I searched for something to say. Whatever unspoken thoughts either of us may have been having at that moment, they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside and a car door opening. Then we heard the unmistakable voice.

"Thanks for the ride, man. Later."

It was Robert. •


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