Brad, Hand Job, Locker Room, Eyes
I know why I had this dream. For the longest time I’d been trying to get a buddy of mine to get me into the Santa Monica Men’s Club. The SMMC was really a glorified bath house for the Beverly Hills set, made up to look like an old English manor…inside at least. There were hot tubs, a couple of indoor pools, an outdoor pool, a gym, private“reading rooms” and it was all a joke. It was a place for all the old queens to pick up a trick without feeling like they were cruising back alleys. Of course, all the best built guys…like me… were members. I figured it was a good way to make some bucks. At first I pretended to be kind of uninterested in joining. You know, playing hard to get. But then I called this dude back and finally told him that I’d thought things over and maybe…just maybe I might be interested in signing on. I thought he’d jump at the chance to have me there. I mean, who wouldn’t? But I didn’t hear nothing from him for weeks. The dude’s a flake. Gave me some lame excuse about being busy and being out of town. Whatever. So I told him I’d join up, if he could give me a deal. He said that would be no problem, and then he said, “You know, Dave’s here.”
I shrugged. “Oh yeah,” I said. “I’ve heard of him.” Heard of him. Heard of him. Over and over. The face. The eyes. The height. The width. The length. The arms. The chest. The ass. The thighs. I shrugged again, as if the guy on the other end of the line could see me. As though it was so important for him to know that I didn’t care.
I was king of that gym. I had the walk down. I had the sneer. I knew how to stand close enough to a prospect, but not so close that he didn’t have to work to get my attention. They had a nice pool. Real secluded. I’d go out there and stretch after my workout, in the nude, and watch all the rich old guys whisper and stare. Then one day this old geezer comes up to me in the gym and introduces himself. He tells me I have a beautiful body, like I didn’t know. Then he tells me that I’m “almost as big as David.”
Excuse me? I didn’t know what to say. Then the guy asks me if I “model” and do “private sessions”. I grinned. I’m gonna stick it to him. Charge him double for telling me I’m almost as big as David. I tell him yeah and name my price, and the idiot tells me that he’s not asking for himself, but that he has a friend who might be interested.
Might be interested? Might? Why wouldn’t he be? Look at me!
I go back to the locker room, which is all done up in dark wood and carpeting, huge couches and big chairs. Guys smoke cigars and drink cognac while they watch us studs undressing or showering. I usually point my ass right at them when I take off my briefs. I kind of shimmy them down my thighs real slow…you know, give them a little show. But in this dream, the locker room was empty and quiet as a tomb. The whole place seemed empty. It felt really late…after midnight. After regular hours. I had a funny feeling being there by myself. I didn’t feel like I’d worked out or nothing. I wasn’t sweaty. I wasn’t wet from the hot tubs or the pool. I was just in there getting dressed. I felt like I’d spent the evening there…for nothing.
I opened my locker and then turned around to see myself in one of the many full length mirrors. I smiled. Perfect tan. Blond, butch flat top. I did a front double biceps and thought to myself, “Read ‘em and weep, McAllister”. Then I did a front lat spread. “Oh yeah,” I said quietly.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. He’d come from nowhere. He was draped across one of the big couches and he was smiling at me. Not a friendly smile. Well, at least not what I’d call a friendly smile, and the reason I know is because I use that smile all the time. It was the smile that said, “Caught you!” Or maybe it was a smile that said, not “caught you preening”, but “I know what you want, I’ve got it, and you’re powerless to resist. Caught you.”
I tried to act uninterested. I tried so hard! But…oh my god! What it is, is that he has everything. That’s what makes you stare. He’s big…huge! He’s tall. He’s handsome. Even from this distance I could see these sky blue eyes flaring at me and those eyes alone were enough to make you stare. Gigantic muscles…massive…but perfectly proportioned and flowing together in such a way that he looked graceful, like a reclining Siberian tiger. Thighs that could crush you. Arms that could kill you. A face–
“You’re here late,” he said, still smiling.
I found myself walking over to him. I realized my mouth was open so I closed it. My eyes went down his body like a cascading brook, from eyes to jaw to shoulders to arms to chest to abs to cock, and I felt myself hold my breath. And I felt myself hate him. Because he made me feel small. I’ve got a good eight inches when I’m solid, but Dave had a good eight inches soft. What a monster. And I’ve seen a lot of big cocks in my time, but I’ve found that the bigger they are, the weirder they look. The shaft looks too long. The head looks too small. I don’t know. Something. But this was the most beautiful cock I’d ever seen. It was so big. And in my mind, all I could think about, all I could see, all I could imagine, all I could want…was to touch it. To hold it. To work it.
I actually closed my eyes and shook my head, as though trying to come to my senses. I looked him in the eyes, and just went to pieces. I mean, I was telling myself to act tough, to not look like some awestruck fourteen year old girl, but I couldn’t! Things just started comin’ out of my mouth!
“Damn!” I said. “Damn, you’re good looking.”
He looked down for a moment…aw, shucks mister…and then he looked back up at me with that knowing smile. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
“Damn!” And I remember thinking to myself that I had to stop saying “damn”, and as soon as I thought that, I heard myself say, “Day-um dude!”
I was no longer in control of my body. It freaked me out. I wiped my sweaty palms on my hips. I looked at his cock and I licked my lips. I flushed with embarrassment, wondering if he had seem me lick my lips and I made a mental note to myself to be aware and not lick my lips again, and as soon as I thought that, I licked my lips.
“You hungry?” he asked.
I looked at his eyes. I felt as though the whole room was tilting forward slightly, as though there was a push from behind, a pull from him, a pocket of gravity that he emanated that grew stronger and stronger. I was purposely stiffening my arms, a passive resistance, because they wanted to reach toward his body. My hands were shaping themselves to cup those hairy pecs. My mouth was opening to dive onto that cockmeat and slurp it over and over. My face could feel the heat and pressure of that fuck pole, fully erect, pressed against my cheeks and lips.
“Are you?” he asked.
“Am I what.”
He smiled at my delirium. “Hungry.”
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Oh n-no! I just…I just…”
“Glad to finally meet you,” he said.
“I know,” I whispered. “I mean…yeah.” Finally, I let out a little laugh. “Good…good to meet you too. What are you doing here?”
“I heard a lot about you, man. Dude, you’re buffed! You got it going on!”
“Thanks,” he said, still smiling, still sitting with legs splayed and arms spread.
“I uh…I can see why you’re so popular. Nice body, man.”
He tilted his head and smirked as though to say, “It’s nothing.”
I wanted him. But I had to act as though I didn’t. After all, he was in my territory. “How’s the action been?”
“Can’t complain,” he said.
I could feel my mind unreeling like a spool of string at the mercy of a runaway kite. I started saying things I never, ever, ever, ever would say to another guy.
“Man, you have a beautiful cock.”
“God, it’s so big!”
“Can’t help it.”
“I bet people stare at it.”
“Been known to.”
“I know I would.”
“I think you are.”
“I can’t help it, man.”
“I bet…I bet people ask if they can touch it.”
“I mean your arms! You know, do people ask to feel your arms? Cuz they do to me.”
“Chest is the most popular.”
“Oh yeah…oh yeah. I know. I mean, yeah m-me too. But arms too.”
“Then arms. It’s a toss up as to what’s third.”
“Yeah, me too. Yeah, me too.”
“You been here all day Brad?”
“No, I been here all day.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Oh. Oh! Right, man! I just…I just…it’s been a long day.”
“Man, that is a huge cock.”
“I like to say all my muscles are big.” He winked at me.
“I…I…guess so!” I licked my lips, and swore under my breath. I held a bit of my lower lip between my teeth, determined not to betray my appetite for what lay before me. My hands were trembling. My mouth felt empty. I wanted to lock lips with that god-like face. I wanted to lay back and let him have his way with me, and that shocked me because I’d never felt like that before. Still, my thoughts just leapt out of my mouth.
“Oh my gosh…you’re–“
“You work out tonight?” he asked.
“You work out tonight? Or earlier?”
My answer just kind of evaporated. “Oh man…do you…do you…” I gestured toward his cock.
He waited for me to continue.
My voice was shaking. “Do you, you know…ever let anyone…touch it?”
What seemed like the longest 15 seconds of my life followed. And then: “Do you…do you think I could touch it?”
“Oh I’m not getting’ all queer on you or nothing.”
“Oh, course not.”
“I was just wondering, you know…” I made a gesture with my right hand as though I was estimating the weight of something. “I was, well I never seen a…a cock that big, and I was just wondering…uh…”
“Wondering, you know, what it feels like.”
“Oh. You mean like how heavy it is, how thick it is…”
“Well…” he splayed his legs even more. “Be my guest.”
I knelt between his thighs. I don’t think I was breathing. I grasped it gently at the base, wrapped my fingers around it, and lifted. I laughed a little. “It’s heavy.”
He said nothing.
“Damn,” I said. I had it. I had it in my hand. Even soft, it had mass. I could feel a pulse. It was getting stronger. “D-damn,” I said again. I felt as though I had a cocked gun in my hand.
“You got nice hands, Brad. Nice touch.”
“God that’s so big.” I slid the skin up and down the shaft once. There wasn’t much give. I held my hand perfectly still. It was throbbing, and stiffening. I stroked it gently once. “Geez…skin’s so soft!”
“Well,” he began, “I put lotion on it.”
That seemed like a sissy thing to do. “Lotion?”
He nodded. “Doesn’t fit too well in my pants.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “It has to go down my pant leg or in the crotch of my pants. New jeans are the worst.
The seams, you know.”
“Oh.” I licked my lips. I could feel the heat and the rigidity building.
“Such a problem,” he said, smiled, and sighed. He turned his head and checked his fingernails.
I couldn’t believe it. The fucker was getting hard, and he was acting bored. I gave him another slow stroke. He acted as though he didn’t feel it at all. My eyes zeroed in on the prize piece of meat I held and I felt like a slavering idiot. I had to have him. I wanted to deep throat him. I wanted to tie him to my bed and ravage his body. I wanted to pound my pecker into his perfect butt. I wanted him to hold me down and use his mouth all over me. I wanted to feel the strength of that hot sex meat pistoning between my thighs, in my mouth, in my ass, erupting on my face, my chest, my insides. I was panting now. It was impossible for him not to know.
“S-s-so uh…what are you doing…later?” I asked.
I gently squeezed the base of his cock and watched. Pulsing. Veins. Swelling. The skin was shiny and taut. The head began to turn red-purple.
“Oh I don’t know,” he said. “I thought I might go over to Bennington’s.”
Bennington’s was a dance club. “To dance?”
“No,” he said with a wry smile.
“You looking to score a fuck?” I looked him in the eyes, begging.
“Well,” he began. “What I’m really hankerin’ for is a nice deep, warm, wet mouth.” He stretched as though waking from a nap. It nearly drove me crazy. “That’s one
drawback of being such a big boy. I’m a sucker for a good sucker. I’d give nearly anything for someone that could deep throat me tonight.”
My heart leapt. “You would?”
“Well…how about…well, I could do it.”
“Shit, yeah! I’ll deep throat you!”
He looked at me, uncertain. “You think you can take it…all the way?”
“I can! Man, let me! Serious! I can do it.”
“The whole thing?”
“The whole thing. Come on, man. I’ll rock your world. Lemme show you. Please. I’m the best. Really. All the way down my throat with a tongue that’ll drive you crazy.”
He gave me a doubtful, crooked smile.
“I don’t know.”
“You really mean it?”
Then I lost it. I lost it. I felt like I was going to cry. I sounded like I was going to cry. I begged him. I pleaded with him. I gripped the bottom of his staff with both hands and I placed my tongue under the head of his cock and looked up at him, waiting for permission.
And I HATED myself. On my knees. Monster cock poised at my lips. Waiting for approval and wanting to give the ultimate blow job to a guy who was better looking than me…for free! And terrified that he was going to say no.
The smile finally left his face, and then he said: “Go for it.”