Disclaimer:
The following story deals with homosexual acts and fetishes which some readers may find objectionable. Therefore, if mansmells, watersports and scat offend you and if you are under the age of eighteen, STOP HERE! You have been WARNED!
In The Heat Of Man By Rim4you
It was a hot, muggy summer night. The crowd at The Shaft, the most notorious bar in town, wasn't overcrowded. The number of men here, in this levi-western bar, was just right. Just the right amount of space between the predator and the prey, between the captor and the captive.
I strode into the bar prepared for anything. To hunt or to be hunted.
"Hey, Robby!" The bartender cried out with a smile on his face, gretting me.
"Hi, Josh!"
"You're usual?"
"Yeah!"
"One Icehouse comin' up, Robby!"
As Josh placed my beer in front of me, he motioned for me to lean closer to him.
"What's up, Josh?"
"You outta check out the new kid on the block. Says he just got moved into town and from the looks of him, I thought about you!"
"Really? So where is this stud?"
"He's out back on the patio. You can't miss him. All the familiar faces are here tonight. But this guy ..."
"Sounds promising, Josh."
"Guys have been tryin' to hit on him all evening but there's something about him that seems impenetrable."
"Oh! And you suppose that I can penetrate what others haven't?"
"Trust me, Robby! If anybody can, you will."
"You're that certain, huh?"
"If I wasn't stuck behind this side of the bar tonight, I'd have snagged him first! But seein' how that I am, I thought about you, buddy, seein' how we speak each other's language! Know what I'm sayin'?"
"Gottcha!"
With that, I picked up my beer, nodded to Josh and headed towards the patio.
"Go for it, stud!"
I looked back at Josh and winked at him.
Chapter Two
Thank God the crowd in the patio was sparse. I nodded to the familiar faces I recognized, who in turn cocked their heads towards a lone figure seated on a bench leaning against the wooden fence in a corner shrouded in darkness.
I took a position opposite him and leaned against an old oak tree and studied him. Watched him. Likewise I had the protection of the night to conceal my gaze.
He sat with one booted leg raised and bent at the knee on the bench. The other leg sprawled out straight on the ground beneath him. His bottle of beer, like an erect cock, he craddled on his crotch.
His levis, from what I could see, were ripped at the knees. Perhaps he had other undetected tears? From my vantage point I could see that they fit him very well like a second skin.
His plaid, flannel shirt was cuffed at the elbows and unbuttoned down to his waist, revealing in the pale summer moonlight, a chisled chest swirling with fur.
I searched for his face but the brim of his cowboy hat obliterated that. I was intrigued with this man. So aloof. So unto hmself.
Slowly I made my approach. I circled the patio keeping my distance from him. Allowing him his space. His territory. As my circle became smaller and my intrusion upon his turf became inevitable, he raised his head and our eyes met in a prolonged gaze of complete silence.
I sucked in the night air, heavy with its humid acridness. Within the space that he had marked as his, as his domain, I detected a certain muskiness. A clearly marked scent. The heat of man!
I tilted my beer to my lips and sensuously took a swallow as if the bottle were a rigid cock passing between my lips. In like manner the stranger did the same, our eyes still riveted upon each other.
Slowly. Silently, he slid up, planting both feet squarely on the ground, legs spread and leaned back. He cocked his head sidewards and down which I took as an indication, an invitation for me to enter his domain.
I stepped forward and lowered myself beside him.
"Denver," he whispered, in a deep, yet soft voice, "I'm Denver."
"Robby," I responded.
In the silence the chemistry between us was building without the need for the spoken word. Two animals in heat had converged. Who would be the captor? Who whould be the captive? Who would be the aggressor and who would surrender?
We sipped our beers in silence. No conversation. Yet in that silence, in our closeness we perceived the heat, the fire of one man to another that needed to be quenched.
The heavy scent that surrounded us. Was it the night air? Or was it the animal musk of man?
"Come," Denver said, rising.
I followed him through the door leading into the bar, which in so short a time, was rapidly filling. The sound of raucous debauchery wafted through the room.
"Robby!" Josh hollerd, amid the tumultuous voices and beat of the music from the blaring jukebox.
I turned towards the sound of my name and saw Josh wink and smile approvingly at me. I nodded my head towards Josh and followed Denver out of the bar into the stillness and quiet outside.
Chapter Three
We headed towards the parking lot and towards a black Silverado where he stopped, leaned against his truck and waited for me.
I didn't want to seem over anxious so I paced myself slowly, allowing him time to re-establish his turf. As I approached him, he hooked his thumbs into his pockets and seemingly thrust his crotch forward.
I entered his inner circle, eyes locked upon his and stepped up to him and pressed my crotch against his. He leaned back against his truck thrusting his basket against mine.
We did not grind our crotches together. Rather we just stood there facing each other, the bulges between our legs meeting and touching one another. Grazing one another.
Without a word, Denver wrapped his arm around my waist and nudged me closer to him. I took one step forward. In doing so, our crotches became firmly pressed to one another. He smiled.
The heat that followed made me tremble but I stood my ground gazing deeply into his eyes. I felt a warmth from between his legs. I welcomed it and pressed myself more firmly against him.
As my senses detected his action, I encircled my arms around his waist and pulled him towards me with a jerk. Lowering my head towards his, our lips grazed each other's, brushing lightly. Then as the warm sensation I felt between my legs became more intense, our mouths made contact in a deep, wet kiss.
Denver was taking a piss. His golden nectar gushed from his cock, soaking his levis and mine. I could feel his warm fluid wetting the material of my jeans and running down my legs into my boots. It was only then that I ground my crotch firmly against his and moaned into his mouth.
Our act was sealed. Denver was the captor. I became the captive. In his complete silence, he was the aggressor and I surrendered.
His stream seemed never ending. As if he had saved himself for this very moment. It's rank muskiness, coupled with our sweat from the humid, muggy night, drifted into my nostrils and drove me heady with lust.
As we broke our kiss and his piss flow subsided, I stepped back to admire ourselves, wet and rancid. Again Denver smiled and reached down to grope his wet crotch. Lifting his wet palm to my face, he rubbed his hand over my lips. My tongue darted out and licked his hand savoring the flavor that his cock had spat.
"Follow me!" He whispered.
I nodded. Turned and headed towards my car parked but only a short distance from his truck. As I slid into the driver's seat and put my key into the ignition and the roar of my engine revved, I thought to myself:
"Tonight I will know the heat of a man!"
I welcome your comments and feedback. Write to me at Rim4you@webtv.net