The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an areawhere it is not allowed, depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to othersites are allowed without the author's consent. ClayCub51@Yahoo.com
CLAY -- Chapter One "Moving Day Surprise"
It was a great old building with lots of character, and the price had been right on the fourth-floor rear corner unit in Adams-Morgan, just north of D.C.'s Dupont Circle. The view was over the rooftops of the row houses down the block to the park, and the morning sun kissed every room with warmth. Clay Grant paused to watch a pair of doves alight on the rail of the little balcony off the den window where a jumble of potted plants awaited placement. "Okay, a birdbath and feeder will have to go out there, too, then," he mused quietly, slowly rubbing his aching left shoulder, "just as soon as I get these boxes out of here. Thank God they're finally all empty!"
The move had been relatively uncomplicated, especially since Claire's employer had paid for the packing and the van. This was the first time in their ten years together that somebody else had done the humping, so all he was actually required to do was check off the numbers on the inventory and point his finger as to which room would be the new home of each piece of furniture or box. As the "trailing spouse" in this relocation, his job was to get the move accomplished and the pieces of their nest put back together while Claire dove headlong into the world of international banking. This was a great promotion with a very hefty raise and an outrageous benefits package for them both, not to mention all expenses for the relocation, so Clay was happy to take care of this end. Besides, he loved working up a good sweat. He was glad the bank wanted Claire right in the office, flying her up to New York this weekend for the first meeting with Sheik Aboud, a definite coup for her. Clay could do this by himself without argument about placement. Claire readily admitted her hunky hubby had the style and taste in the family, as she had always been the driven bookworm focused only on making that first million. So here they were, in the new digs, a new chapter in their lives to unfold.
"Well, you're not going to walk yourselves down to the trash room, are you?" Clay sighed as he opened the door, stopping it with his size 12 Nike, and squatted down to grasp the stack of flattened boxes. He tussled with them a bit until he secured a good angle to heft them against his broad chest, then strode to the elevator. He did a cute gyration before getting the call button with a knuckle, then zoned out to the drone of the car's arrival at Floor Four. He repeated the bizarre dance step once inside the car to find "B" and smiled on the trip down, a sense of comfortable accomplishment in checking off this "almost done" step in the day.
The door opened and Clay maneuvered his load into the basement hallway, only to clip one corner of box on a corner of wall, evoking a snarled "Oh, shit!" The boxes escaped his hands like mis-shuffled cards against the laundry room door, which had been flung open the second before by a Birkenstock-clad foot.
"Whoa!" the voice behind the laundry basket barked as he did a quick half-pirouette to recover his momentum. Two pairs of gray jersey boxer briefs join the sprawl on the floor. Two pairs of eyes meet, lock, the chocolate set bewildered, the green set flashing total embarrassment. The dark browns melted into a warm smile, dazzling teeth flashing behind full lips. The tall bronzed assaultee chuckled richly.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, man," Clay blurted. "Are you okay?" As he reached to retrieve the briefs, he tripped over a stray box and proceeded to dive headlong into the laundry basket. It, in turn, crunched into the full "basket" in the sweatshorts of its bearer, sending him careening off the doorjamb onto his butt, the remainder of laundry flying wildly upward yet landing miraculously back in the basket. Clay reached forward to break his fall, only to fill his hand with a thick hairy thigh muscle under frayed jersey.
The dark man laughed deeply. "I'm certainly awake now! And yes, I'm fine." He felt the hand next to his dick snatched away. "Really, I am." He peered into the green eyes of the scrambling blond hunk, again locking the gaze, then scanning the broad shoulders under the sleeveless blue sweatshirt and the sculpted golden arm emerging from it. "Are you?"
Clay sputtered another "Shit!" as he regained his balance and attempted his composure. "What a mess! I sure didn't mean to ambush anyone this morning, but Jeez! Sorry, man."
"Takes more than a train wreck at this hour to mess up a whole day." The dark eyes drank in the golden-furred muscles before him, and the grin broadened as his sphincter clinched, sending a throb up his hardening pole. `Damn, he's a fine-looking male, and so sweet,' flashed through his head. "I'm Josh, in 304," he said offering his hand.
"Clay Grant, 403. Just moving in, as you can see." He clasped the strong hand in his mitt, batting his golden lashes and inhaling sharply. Downy and manmusk exuded from the handsome guy, filling Clay's senses. The two hands lingered in their transaction, first tense, then relaxing, then easy in the hilarity of the moment, but the heat of that hand! Clay's dick jumped. He blanched, then blushed crimson. "Can I help you up at least?" Clay was quickly to his knee, one foot planted, with a bracing tug.
Alas, a lower box skidded further beneath the Nike and Clay's effort to pull succeeded only in his lurching forward again, his face squarely between two mounds of darkly- downed pecs straining against the tight white singlet barely covering them. He inhaled another lungful of Josh's clean, hot aroma, almost choked on the sensation, blushed anew. "Oh, JEEZ," he gasped again. He finally caught his balance and looked up into the broad sympathetic smile of his new neighbor. "Sorry," he whispered.
Josh clasped the big, downy bicep of his unintentional assaulter and squeezed the stony mass. His deep giggle erupted again, dark eyes flashing. "It's okay, man, I'm tough enough to take a flying tackle, even when it's coming straight at me. My ass knows how to bounce." An eyebrow arched.
With a nervous chuckle, Clay dropped his gaze and his chin, only to get another noseful of Joshscent. He snapped center and shook his head to clear his wits. Again his green eyes locked with the deep chocolate pools staring back at him. His throat clenched, as did his ass, and a surge of honey found its way to his cockhead pressing against the loose workout shorts. `Why didn't I put on some underwear?' flashed through the back side of his brain. "Football?" he managed to stammer.
"Yeah and rugby and hockey and whatever the next game is called. I'm a sucker for a good romp, just about any time," Josh replied, pushing himself to his feet, his big right hand still enmeshed with his neighbor's levering them both to their feet. "So what's your game, uh, Clay, right?" The dark browns caught and centered on the emeralds in front of him again.
"Yeah," Clay sputtered, another surge up his cock. `Oh shit, I know that one made a spot,' he thought as his gaze slowly drifted south, over black-downed slabs of muscle with their nipple points, ridged abs beneath the thin athletic shirt, a pronounced bulge tenting gray cutoff sweats.
The sight of that formidable mound sent Clay back through time. To Jake Turley. Short, thick Jake, "The Brick," fantasy man of the whole high school, streaked across his memory. The one and only time he had touched a cock other than his own, that day after practice when Jake came back from his shower and stood naked and hard in front of his star junior running back, grasped him by the neck, locked his big brown eyes with Clay's, and whispered, "Don't hate me, buddy, but you've gotta know something. I have to feel you, all of you." Jake shuddered. "I know I want you, and I want you to know me. I know you don't even know it yet, but you're something special, Clay. I think I might even be in love with you. I gotta touch you, at least one time. Will you let me, man?" He reached out his other hand, filled it with Clay's crotch, pulled Clay's face into wet swollen lips, sucked Clay's soul into his hot mouth. Clay groaned in surrender. How could he not grasp Jake's dark uncut monster stabbing into his gut, pulling back the folds of foreskin to guide the red wet knob into his newly-fuzzed navel? How could he not duel Jake's swollen tongue sucking his into that beautiful mouth? How could he not shove his other hand between Jake's hard-muscled, hairy gleuts that he admired so much, to find the wet pucker there that voraciously devoured his questing middle finger so eagerly, the strong quarterback's leg deftly twining around to lock Clay in place? How could he not surrender to Jake, the Brick, the quarterback, his captain, however required? Brickfist mashed jockstrapped Claycock against Brickballs, leaking Claydrool slicked Brickass joining Clayfinger. They clinched and kissed and humped into each other's hand for at least a full minute before Jake whimpered, then froze, then exploded, first a wail into Clay's mouth, his ass a vise grip on Clay's finger, then the blast into Clay's hand gripping his hard cock.
Clay's mind reeled as he realized that it was not the Brick's big brown eyes he was drowning in. These eyes were Josh's. Here. Now. Hot. Open. Inviting him in, as Jake's had. His mouth opened, but the only sound emerging was a sigh as Josh's broad calloused thumb sensuously traced across Clay's quivering bottom lip.
"Tell me what you want, stud." The words careened off Clay's psyche, the hungry dark eyes afire, drinking him in, demanding him.
"I--I want to--" Clay met the stare with a resolve he had never experienced in his life. "--to know you." His green eyes sparkled wet with surprise at his boldness.
Josh turned Clay's golden mitt still in his grip to his crotch, deftly laying the thick cock tenting his shorts across the upturned palm, which immediately closed into a simultaneous caress and unrelenting clutch of lust. His left hand traced the line from Clay's lower lip across his jaw, then down the chest clad in blue jersey, finding a swollen nipple pulsing there. He pinched, then circled the nub, filling his hand with Clay's pec, squeezing the strong fullness he found. Leaning in, Josh plunged his hot tongue between the blond-stubbled lips before him, inhaling Clay's panted surrender luxuriously.
"Hello, neighbor," Clay breathed as he caressed the tumescence throbbing in his big hand, "nice to know you."
"You, too," Josh panted. A blur of hands ripped cloth away from flesh, skin hot and raw and urgent to touch, new yet familiar. Strong fingers kneaded pliant skin, sliding in synch, Clay's blond silky fur meeting Josh's dark coarse counterpart, reveling in sensation and recognition, acknowledgement and rut. Fever and sweat fed desire and acquiescence, hard dicks in hot strong fists so attuned to the rhythmic frenzy of their mutual pleasure. Nanoseconds and eons passed in the same instant as a shared guffaw erupted from the heaving bodies, blasts of protoplasm and lust spent in raucus explosion onto the other's heaving midsection, trails dribbling, clotting, steamy. In forty-five seconds they were done, their heads collapsed onto the other's amazingly strong shoulder, both breathing heavily, harshly.
Josh succumbed to a nervous snicker first. Clay spewed a last gob of wetness into Josh's fist and a chortle into the thick olive-skinned neck. Clay attempted to kiss the noise back into himself, failed, so he just broke over into a steady gut chuckle. Josh grinned, too, ecstasy slowly steered back to reality. "I accept your apology, hot stuff," he murmured.
Clay furled the skin back over the formidable wet meat in his hand, and collapsed into the arms of the heaving hunk. He gently pinched a last drop from the gathered folds, brought his hand to his mouth and devoured the thick ropes of Jake's sticky seed covering his fingers. "At last," he whispered, "I taste love, my man."
The elevator lurched into a call from above. Eyes flew wide in panic and conflict. Clay yanked the three wet knuckles from his mouth and emitted a sharp squeak, his entire body going rigid. A finger flew up to the lips, silencing.
"Shh," Josh chirped, his chocolate eyes softly crinkled. He peeled apart their bodies, wincing as their shared glue pulled hairs. He reached down for a fluffy warm towel and deftly captured all evidence in a thorough swipe of them both. Then with one hand Josh snapped Clay's waistband back up over the blond abs, his other hand pulling jersey over his own tight buns. In an instant both men were recovered, present, poised. Josh snatched up his laundry basket, the model of composure heading to the elevator door. He turned, winked, and mouthed `Thank you,' as Mrs. Murdoch emerged with the barking wreck of terrier known as Zeus exploding into the basement hall.
"Hey, Miss Myrtle, hey Zeus ya mutt, this is our new neighbor on four," Josh schmoozed as the terrier yapped at his knees.
"Oh, hi, honey, you know I've gotta get his Highness the monster to his park to do his business. We'll do the amenities later." A thick cloud of Estee Lauder Private Collection filled the air in the wake of a blur of purple lurching out the side exit.
The door slammed. Clay's mouth gaped in stunned silence, his arms hanging limply as he saw the bright brown eye wink again before disappearing into the elevator. As the car droned upward, he mused, "That was one helluva nice welcome to the neighborhood!"