Lazarus is a massively built guy - not tall, and not particularly huge, but his presence is like a rock: he's extremely strong, you could almost say dense, if you didn't mean stupid, which he's not - the opposite, he sparkles. It's a wonderful combination, full of surprises.
I met him in a dance class in Chicago; he was there with his wife, Larissa, a tiny person, less than 5 feet, with a sweet smile and shy quiet ways, those of a third-world background, where women pick their way carefully.
If he hadn't told me he was Israeli, I'd have sworn he was Irish - goofy brown hair with 3 cowlicks competing right in front, so it spikes out in all directions and makes him look like a college kid, and dancing laughing eyes that made him seem full of malarkey.
We'd met several times, but the night I noticed him, there weren't enough follows for the class and I volunteered to do the follow-side. It's no big deal in swing dancing - all the good leaders learn to follow, and lots of the good follows can lead. And you don't usually dance super-close, so it doesn't have to become an issue. Sometimes a guy will object to dancing same-sex - usually some older guy set in his ways; but most folks just roll with it, and since you're asked to rotate partners after at most 90 seconds, it's no big deal.
Well, this night, I rotated to Laz early on and noticed right away how muscular his lead was, and how he didn't shy away from putting his body as much into the dance as he would have with a female partner, so I put a lot of energy into my dancing, let him feel my weight (I'm very strong, but wiry; he had me by 30 pounds at least) - and we were kicking butt.
Through some fluke, somebody left, and I got repositioned -- which rotated me back to Laz right away, just as they started teaching some new steps, where you pair off tight and kick between each other's legs. Whoa! This was different. He wasn't afraid to let me feel his legs, and what an animal. Damn, I felt something start to happen in me, even though we were still in this social situation, and I couldn't tell if it was happening in him. Though we were careful not to kick each other, again and again I found myself getting a good feel of his inner thighs. He'd pull me in and put me there. Up against his thigh. I loved this sensation - his legs were like tree trunks, hard with muscle, and planted. I could really feel his strength, his arm around me, my torso against his. I didn't feel his cock, nothing "extra," though I gave him a feel of mine -- soft, just a cushion to touch himself against. He didn't let on he'd felt anything, but whenever we'd go into that step, he'd pull me in close and I'd get a rush off the power, the potential force of those thighs, that trunk, those arms.
When I rotated away from him, it was cool - none of the other guys turned me on, but they were fun to dance with, I was learning stuff, it was all good. But at the back of my mind I could feel it, I was attracted, and if I dared let him know, and he liked it-- I could be hard and dripping pre-cum and sticky-assed for that guy, in a heart-beat. And I was wondering how to get together with him after class.
"He's bisexual enough," I heard myself thinking, "to be more into a good dance partner than he is into having a pretty girl on his arm - which may not be much of a start, but he's unconventional - and whatever happens, he's a really nice guy. And he tolerates me when I don't get it - though I do mostly get it, we make a good team. and that's sweet. I'm liking this."
At the end of class I ducked into the men's room for a quick whiz and was standing at the urinal peeing when he came in. I'd needed to piss in the worst way and was into it, my cock almost full-length but soft with the stream of piss buzzing through me like electricity. I had my left hand in my hip pocket, and from where he was standing he could see everything - if it had been a movie, the scene couldn't have been better set up for him to see what a huge unit I pack, and he rolled those sparkling eyes and said, "Good lord, man, have I been leading that around?"
"It's a miracle,' I replied laughing, "and it's all your doing; it's grown three inches in the last half hour" - but it jumped in my hand as I said so.
"Whoa!" I thought, "don't blow my cool." The stream, interrupted, began to flow again, like a hose, and I sighed.
"That's quite a relief effort you've got going there," and showed his teeth in a really pretty smile.
"Whoops, I've got to concentrate. It's a mule dick, I think - it bucks and refuses when it gets a notion."
And it jumped again.
"Wow," he said slowly, and the smile had turned into a kind of hungry stare.
"Now don't give him ideas!"
"Ideas! Man am I getting ideas."
"I mean don't flatter him - it goes to his head." I couldn't stop it, it was starting to get unmanageably hard and raring up.
"Man, you're huge."
"Well, there you go - if it's huge you want to see, it looks like you're going to get a demonstration."
There was only one urinal. Laz was standing with his back to he door - so the risk that Charles or Adam from the class would walk in on us was really a pretty big one. But he just stood there transfixed as my cock started filling up, and it felt ssoooooo good. I could feel every pulsing stage of it as it pushed past the denim fly, stroking the old cloth softly and stretching out and up, with a slight bounce timed to my heartbeat. Its head started to shine, and the big vein underneath thickened and pushed back at my fingertips. I tweaked it a couple of times involuntarily as the rush of sensitivity threatened to intoxicate me.
And his eyes were locked on my cock, taking it all in. Mine were fixed on his eyes, and I was a cutely anxious of what would happen when the spell broke.
But I thought I'd best be in charge.
"Penny for your thoughts." Luckily my voice didn't crack; I sounded cooler than I felt.
He "woke" a little, and a smile came to his eyes.
"Did I do that? I mean, am I responsible?"
"Those between-the-leg kicks were really comfortable, monsieur. I'd have to say, I wouldn't mind if you got familiar."
I smiled, but I was nervous about somebody walking in on us, and I shook my cock, which had softened a little when he'd smiled, to pretend I'd finished pissing (The flow had stopped, of course, but I wasn't through, exactly. Still, it seemed best to stop -- I was still going to have a struggle to get it back inside my button fly.)
He stepped over close - it was rash, there was no cover if anyone came in.
"Don't put it away yet" - and he stared again.
Instantly it jumped back up, harder than before. The glans, which though I say it myself, is huge, darkened to plum, and its skin became like velvet, then as it stretched tighter, began to shimmer, like silk.
"Mother of God!" and reached out with his hand, but checked himself, suddenly shy.
On an impulse, I touched his butt lightly. "It's cool. but let's cool it here,' and stepped aside to button up.
In the nick of time, for the door opened and Adam came in. Laz stepped up to the urinal without missing a beat, as if he'd been en route.
Meantime, Adam made a rush for the paper towels, thank God, and began mopping his brow, which was dripping, wet. Staring at his reflection, he said, "Man, all those gnarly steps really work you. I'm sweating bullets"
"Yeah, I'm wrung out myself, " I countered. "I've been using my flannel shirt like a towel"
By this time I'd buttoned up and circled to the sink; Adam wadded up his paper towels and threw them in the trash and was gone, and suddenly I was in a position to see what was up at the urinal.
Laz caught my eye, laughing. "Like man, that was fancy stepping," and then he looked down. My glance followed his, and he stepped back slightly, opening up the view. His left hand took his shirt tail and pulled it back like a curtain, and there it was - ivory yellow, glowing, huge, and uncircumcised, with his right hand moving the foreskin back and forth, uncovering, reveiling the rosy glans. The hood fit the head exquisitely; it could not cover it completely, but left only the very front exposed, where a new drop of precum appeared as he milked it and spread gleaming over the swelling cockhead each time it emerged.
He was fully as big as I, maybe a half-inch more. I gulped at the sight; the knot in my throat, I could feel it, hungered to feel his knob rub against me there, muscle to muscle: yeah, throb against my larynx, massage all my tensions away.
"So, are you staying for level 3?"