Martin

This story is mostly fiction. It contains sex between consulting adult men. If you are underage, and, depending upon where you live, are not of legal age to read stories with adult sexual content, you must close your browser immediately. This story has been written for adults but, if as an adult, sexual activity between men offends your sensibilities, you must likewise, close your browser immediately. Enough information has been provided for you to make an appropriate decision based upon your age. It is your responsibility to act accordingly. This story is my own original composition, please do not copy it. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome but flames will be ignored. I hope you enjoy the story.

The following week, Martin and I saw each other at a meeting and of course we took pains not to speak of our afternoon in the sun nor to appear intimate in any way. I was still reeling from that experience. It was all I could think about.

I thought I felt his leg press up against mine more than usual but maybe it was my imagination. We bid each other good night and went our customary separate ways. I found it difficult seeing him walk away. An emptiness filled me.

Two days later, I had just entered my apartment when the phone rang. It was Martin and he must have been at the office because he was cryptic.

"How's next Tuesday?" He asked.

"Fine," I said, "any day is fine, I'm retired."

"I'm driving my wife to the airport Monday afternoon, so I'll call in the evening to confirm."

He must have been anxious because the call came in the late afternoon rather than in the evening. I was keen to go and killing time on the computer to distract myself during the wait.

"Can you come over now?" He said. "I bought a take out meal at one of the restaurants in town on the way home and it shouldn't sit too long."

"Sure," I said, "I'm on my way."

"Pack a bag."

"Okay." In my anticipation, I had already done that.

Less than a half-hour later, I entered his home and we stood looking at one another in the kitchen. I put the overnight bag down. He offered his hand and looked sheepish doing so.

There was uncertainty. It demonstrated he was aware we were more than merely two men shaking hands. He was at a loss. I really wanted to hug him but thought it would probably unnerve him. At least I thought it would outside of a sexual context.

And that's the answer, I realized. Let me move in on him right now. Dinner can wait.

I held the handshake. When he tried to break it, I tightened my grip and then slowly began to stroke his hand with my thumb.

His eyes widened and he sighed.

"You look tense. Let me see," I said moving behind him.

Even through the layers of dress shirt and undershirt his back muscles were tight to the touch.

"Come on!"

I picked up the overnight bag and headed towards a hall off the kitchen. It led to the separate wing which contained his bedroom suite.

"But...but...I need to shower and..." he started to say before I interrupted him.

"No you don't! Come on!"

Martin protested the entire way to his bedroom. Once there, I turned to him and began to undo his necktie as I explained my standards for the bedroom were very simple. I wanted to say they were not as rigid as the ones his wife had imposed on him but I didn't.

"But I've been sweating all day and I smell," he said sniffing an armpit.

"Tell you what! I'm easy! I'll wet a washcloth and sponge bathe any body parts you find offensive."

He seemed unconvinced and he frowned.

I unbuttoned the shirtfront and pulled the shirttails out of his pants. I rubbed the part of his hairy chest exposed by the V-neck of his undershirt.

This distracted him and I heard the breath catch in his throat. Resigned, he followed me into the bathroom and handed me a washcloth, which I wet thoroughly.

"Do you have to pee?" I asked.

He nodded.

I moved him over to the toilet, lowered the zipper on his pants, stuck my hand through into the fly of his boxer shorts and hauled his dick out.

"Okay!" I said, pointing it into the toilet bowl.

He was horrified.

"If you're pee shy, I'll leave."

"No one has ever done this," he said, "where do you get these ideas? This seems truly perverse!" He shook his head in disbelief.

Enough foreskin had been left after his circumcision to cover half of his large helmet. I pulled the skin back and there was no discernible odor. I teased his urethral opening with a finger tip then ran it along the underside of the glans over what felt like an intact frenulum.

"Here it comes!" He warned.

I aimed him carefully into the toilet as the water bubbled and stirred with the splash of the urine stream.

Martin could not fathom this intimacy and I knew without a doubt no one had ever held him by the dick while he urinated.

"It smells," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Of course it does," I replied, "that's why it's called excretion."

"So why do you want to do this? It's embarrassing!"

He asked this like he really wanted to know.

"Because this is a part of knowing you," I replied.

He continued to appear dismayed.

I shook him carefully to dislodge the last drops. But I knew, because of his age, he would continue to leak for a while longer, like residual water out of a garden hose.

"Hand me that wash cloth, will you please?" He said.

"Why?"

"I need to clean myself off."

"I could do that for you...with my mouth."

He was astonished but he did not speak.

Then I hesitated before continuing.

"Go ahead! Say it! You know you want to," I provoked him.

"Say what?"

"Say it! 'You pig! You fucking little pig!'"

"What!"

I went down on my knees and licked his cock head, tasting its acrid saltiness.

"Say it!"

I went back to licking him.

"No!"

"Say, 'I love having a little pig lick the piss from my cock.'"

"No!"

"But doesn't it feel good when I lick the piss from your cock?"

"No...yes..." he said as he sighed in resignation.

"Then say it!"

"I can't!" He said exasperated.

As I continued licking, the bitter salty taste was soon replaced by a sweet salty taste. He was producing pre-cum, so I knew what he wanted and I began to suck his cock.

He hardened completely as I deep-throated him and rubbed the back of my tongue from side to side over the frenulum.

Removing his erection from my mouth, I held him over my tongue so I could catch the strings of drool coming out of him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I'm leaking."

"Have you been criticized for this? Were you told it was disgusting? Were you made to feel less than a man?"

Martin nodded.

"Well it's a shame you were made to feel embarrassed about something your body does so naturally. It only means you're turned-on! I think it's sexy!"

"You like it?" He asked incredulously.

"Hell yeah!" I answered.

Martin needed to loosen up!

"Can I get you a beer?"

"I'd love one!" He said.

I went to the kitchen and brought back two beers. Martin had taken off his shirt by the time I returned and he was washing under his arms.

"Do you use deodorant or antiperspirant?" I asked.

"What?"

"Do you put anything on your underarms?"

"Yes," he said, wincing at the personal question.

I handed him a beer and he chugged most of the can.

"Then it's good you washed, that stuff tastes nasty."

"You're crazy!" He said.

He tipped the beer to his lips and tilted his head back draining the rest of the can.

I popped the second can and handed it over.

"You trying to get me drunk?" He asked.

"Oh yeah!" I said grinning.

I lowered the cover of the toilet seat and sat him on it. Then I removed his shoes and socks.

He wrinkled his nose and said in an embarrassed voice, "My feet smell."

"Everyone's feet smell," I said.

Using the washcloth, I knelt and cleaned them.

Then I lifted a foot to my mouth, slurped his toes and licked slowly between them.

"This isn't right!" He said.

"Why not?" I asked as I placed little kisses on the arch of his foot.

"You're not supposed to do this," he said softly.

"Who says?"

He shrugged and didn't answer.

"Drink your beer," I said.

And he did.

"You know what I'd like?" I asked him.

"I'm afraid to know," he answered.

I ignored this and continued.

"I'd like if you would go a whole day without wearing deodorant. Then when the day was over, you would let me root around in your armpits, enjoying their smell and licking them."

I swear I could see him grit his teeth.

"Go ahead. Say it!" I prodded.

Instead, he finished off the second beer.

"Why do you say these ridiculous things to me?"

"I want you to let go!"

"Of what?"

"Your propriety."

"Why?"

"Because you need to! You've been repressed!"

I pulled him up by his arms and led him into the bedroom.

"But I'm not finished washing," he said.

At the bedside, I unhooked his pants, then pulled them and his boxer shorts down in one quick move.

"I'm sweaty down there!" He protested.

"You ever hear of pheromones?" I asked.

Martin nodded his head.

"That's the smell of the sweat on your balls and asshole," I said, "and I love it!"

"You uncouth little brute!" He said spitting out the words like he really meant them.

The beer on an empty stomach had done its job. He was letting loose.

I pushed him onto the bed, put his legs on my shoulders and inserted my face into the crease of his buttocks.

When it was all over, after he sweated, cursed, called me every name in the book and came buckets in my mouth, he said he was sorry for losing control.

"It's my all fault," I said. "I provoked you and I think it made you horny as hell. I'll bet you never even jerked off in the week or so since the last time you came."

"How can you ask such embarrassing questions?" He said.

"Well, did you?" I insisted.

"Did I what?" He said coyly.

"Beat off!"

"Not that it's any of your business but no, I did not," he confessed.

"No wonder you were such a horn dog!" I said as I laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing," I replied.

His belly growled right then and I jumped up saying I would go and heat up dinner. Martin said he needed to take a quick shower. I stuck out my tongue at him and he shook his head.

After dinner and kitchen clean-up, he retired to watch TV in his bedroom while I showered. He had eaten dinner in pajamas. I put on underwear before I joined him on the bed.

"Another beer," I asked.

"Okay," he said.

When I returned with it, he said, "You take good care of me."

I told him that was my intent.

"Can I ask you something?" I said.

"As long as it's not embarrassing," he said, grinning.

I rubbed my bare feet against his.

"You're frisky tonight," he remarked.

I laughed, then asked, "If I was really nasty and obscene, would you spank me?"

"What!" He said.

I repeated the question.

"You have already been very nasty and extremely obscene but I won't spank you," he replied.

"If you put me over your knees and spanked my bare ass, I would probably leave a wad on your pajama bottoms," I said. "What do you say to that?"

"You promised you wouldn't ask any embarrassing questions."

"I did no such thing!" I insisted.

"Keep this up and you might make me angry enough to spank you."

"You would?" I said.

"You're a handful!"

"I am?" I said as innocently as possible.

"You know goddamned well you are," he said as he sat up quickly on the bed and grabbed me.

He turned me onto his knees and yanked the seat of my briefs over my buttocks.

"What a hairy ass!" He said in surprise. "I never noticed before."

Then he walloped me with his open hand. I screamed from the sharp pain and begged him to stop but he didn't.

"Please Daddy! Don't beat me," I cried, my cock as hard as a rock.

He stopped.

"Do you promise to be good? No more embarrassing questions?" He asked.

"No!" I shouted.

He returned to slapping my bare ass again and again. I humped frantically against his knees.

"Daddy, I'm cumming!" I yelled as I spilled into my briefs.

It was so intense, I thought I was shooting the marrow from my bones.

That night my briefs had not completely contained the load I ejaculated onto Martin's knees. It soaked through to his pajama bottoms and he wasn't too happy about that. So I removed his pants, my briefs, re-wet the wash cloth and cleaned the both of us. Afterward, I stripped off my tee shirt then began to unbutton his pajama top. He gave me a daunting look.

Martin had been eager to sleep in the nude our first time together but apparently propriety got the better of him the second time around. He seemed to have doubts and made a feeble protest but soon acquiesced as I cuddled up to him. In the end, I think he was simply swayed by the creature comfort.

We were curled up like puppies when I awoke early the next morning. I was torn between watching him sleep and wanting to touch him. I was already aroused by the smell of him and the delight in finding him lying completely naked next to me. So I began to slowly stroke my fingers on his bare skin. Martin's eyes opened and although he seemed surprised at first, he recovered quickly.

"Good morning," he said, then, "excuse me but I need to get up."

I gave him an impish grin.

"Don't!" Was all he said.

He left and I bounded off the bed after him.

"I need to go too," I said.

He was bewildered as we stood at the bowl and took our morning piss together.

Reaching out an arm, I gently pulled him to me, shoulder to shoulder. He shook his head slowly.

"Don't get upset," I whispered, "it's only guy stuff."

"But this is private and it's embarrassing."

"When we're together like this, you don't need to keep anything private from me and you certainly don't need to feel embarrassed."

"But...but..." He stammered. "I'm trying. I really am. It's all just so new to me...and strange...I never...ah..."

"I know," I said, cutting him short and kissing his cheek.

In surprise, he turned his face to look at me so I pecked him on the lips. This shocked him but I could see him softening at the same time. I gave him another dry kiss, held it longer and sucked slowly on his mouth.

There was a squelching sound as we broke away. Martin looked like a little boy at that point with pronounced wonderment etched on his face.

His amazement had slightly parted his lips. I dove in and tongue kissed him as slowly as possible. He allowed it and I moaned with my efforts.

As we were catching our breaths, he said, "You liked that didn't you? I heard you."

"Yes!" I answered.

"I haven't even brushed my teeth," he said as we leaned towards each other.

"S'okay," I whispered as we resumed kissing.

The next time we stopped to breathe, he said, "It's not supposed to feel like this."

"What's it supposed to feel like?"

"I don't know but not like this."

"Because we're men?"

"Yes!" He hissed into my mouth as he kissed me passionately.

We were rampant by the time he said, "We need to stop. I have to call work."

"Why?"

"I hope you don't have plans because we're spending the day together. Have you ever played golf?"