Ass, Brad, Rimming, Back, Wrestling



David232His voice was gruff. “Come on Brad! I don’t suck just anybody’s dick!” He leaned back so that my face was buried in his ass crack. “Work for it!” And I did.

His ass was a thing of beauty, a true bubble butt of pure grade A muscle. Watching him in the gym was mesmerizing. He usually wore those thin, tight, stretchy little hot pants that barely covered his ass, or he’d wear a leotard or tights, whatever you want to call them. All I know is that they looked like they were painted on. They were tissue thin, but totally opaque, and that was his “out”. He wasn’t showing off because you couldn’t see through them. As if you needed to! I think that just made it worse! He didn’t wear a jock. You would have been able to see the straps. There was just that thin, thin fabric…a film of threads that separated the actual view of his flesh from your eyes, but every curve of the huge beast between his legs was there for you to see, and when he’d bend down or squat, and then stand, he’d inevitably have to “adjust himself” down there, grab that monster, pull his balls out from between his crushing thighs to let them hang free and forward.

Sometimes I”d work the juice bar, and I’d see him slowly striding toward me, and two things would happen instantly: I’d get hard, and I’d get nervous. Now, I don’t mind getting hard in public, but I don’t like getting nervous. I want to be the one to make people nervous, and when he’d come over I felt like one of those schoolgirls that giggles and wants to feel my biceps, because I wanted to feel his biceps. I wanted to grab his fucking ass! I wanted to twist his nipples and bring him to his knees and reduce him to a pile of spurting moans.

But that’s how he made me feel, without even trying.

He’s six foot six. So you gotta understand that when he comes up and leans against a countertop, his cock and balls are right at the level of the counter. I mean, right on the edge. So naturally, it’s uncomfortable to have an edge pressing against your parts, so whenever he’d come up to the counter, he’d have this shit-eating grin on his face, because he knew that I knew what he was gonna do, and sure enough, he’d do it. He’d lean up against the counter and then he’d kind of back away an inch, tilt his hips up, and rest the whole couple of pounds of sex meat and balls on top of the counter, and all the while he’d have this smirk on his face, like he didn’t know what he was doing, as though it was inadvertent, unavoidable, not his fault, as though there was nothing he could do about it.

It was maddening. Because, like, you weren’t supposed to stare. You weren’t supposed to notice, but there was that package, that pole and those nuts, jutting out, barely clothed. He knew what he was doing. I tried to act like I didn’t care, but he knew I wanted him. He just had a way about him.

He’d lean forward, and those pecs would practically spill out of his tank top. He’d drill his eyes into you. You simply cannot take that stare for more than a few seconds, and he knew it. He’d scratch his chest, He’d scratch his head, just to make his biceps bulge, and he’d watch you trying not to notice. Any way he moved was pure, animal, strip-you-of-every-inhibition, I-know-you-want-me, let’s-do-it-right-here-right-now sex. Even when I asked him what size drink he’d want, he’d pause until I turned around, and then he’d flash that predatory grin, and say:


And he made that one word just reduce me to a dripping, throbbing, trembling fool. And then, once he had his drink, he’d turn around, take a few steps, and stop. And he’d stand, as though surveying his domain, legs spread, hips tilted, so that one globe of muscle was slightly higher than the other, and then, in a move that made me want to bang my head against the wall, he’d slowly shift his weight to the other foot, and those meaty spheres would rise and fall, and I’d feel like I was losing control, like I was gonna leap over that counter, grab the waistband of his tights, and in one huge movement rip them all the way down to his knees and shove my cock up his ass and r@pe him right there in front of everybody.

I wanted that ass!!! I wanted it. I wanted it so bad.

And now, in my dream, I had it. But it was all wrong. I wanted to be the top. I wanted to hear him plead. I wanted to make him spurt with my touch when and where I wanted him to. But I buried my face in his ass and I licked his quivering hole so that he’d suck my cock. I was held prisoner by those thighs. His balls rested beneath my chin, and they were hot. His huge, slick, fuck rod sat in the groove between my pecs, and when I did a good job, he’d rock his hips and he’d fuck my chest. And if I was really good to his ass, he’d scoot back for a minute, bend down, and go down on me.

“That feel good, Brad?” he said.

I moaned. I was in ecstasy. He shifted his hips from left to right and rubbed his cock on my face. I moaned. My mouth was open, hungry. I tried to lick it. I wanted it again so bad. And in the meantime, my cock was being sucked by that handsome face, and he was good. He was sloppy and slow, just how I like it. He would do these things that made my eyes fly open. He’d roll his tongue around and around the head of my cock until I was on fire, and then he’d lick the staff, not enough to make me cum, but enough to make me want to so bad, and I’d lose control and start jabbing the air.

“Please Dave! Oh god! Please make me cum!”

He’d squeeze me with his thighs, and oh god that was a turn on. He scooted forward, and suddenly I was desperate for that cock on my face again. I whimpered.

“You want to cum, Brad?”

“Oh god! Oh god! Dave!”

“Work for it.”

I dove into his ass again. I hated the fucker for making me a slave, but I just kept telling myself that this tight, little hole I was licking, was my ticket to making him cum again, to making him shudder and explode, and in that moment I’d throw him off me, spread his legs, and sink my throbbing cock into my prize.
With my tongue, I swirled and probed. I jabbed wetly between his leg and ball sack and wiggled my tongue.

“Damn, baby! Ohh!” He jerked. His grip on my thighs tightened. He started panting for breath. “God DAMN that feels good!” His whole body turned rock solid, and he started to tremble, and then his voice lowered and there was a desperate, “Oh!” So I licked faster. I tried to bite the flesh between his balls and hole and managed to get a good grip on it with my teeth and I very gently nibbled.

“OHHHH!!!!!” He nearly collapsed on top of me. He regained his posture and then the hips started rocking. I could feel the heat of his meat on my chest.. He started rocking faster and whimpering. I wiggled my face back and forth to get in deep and I nibbled all around his hole.

“OHHHH!!! Fuck!” He nearly jumped out of his skin, and then he really started to rub his cock between my pecs.

“B-Brad? Oh geez! Brad…I’m gonna…”

“Yeah!” I yelled. I had him. He was mine I’m gonna make the fucker cum! Make him cum!

“…h-hot load of fuck cream all…all over your chest!”

“Give it to me!” I clutched his buttocks and drilled my tongue tip into his hole.

“Oh god! OHHH!!”