Enough for Me
By
Tom Collins
Yanking
hard on my bag, trying to get the damned thing out of the overhead compartment,
I nearly fell backward when it finally came free. I knew I wasn’t thinking
straight, my stomach was fluttering more every second and my knees felt like
they might give out at any moment. I had never been this nervous in my life but
then, I had never done anything so wildly reckless before either.
I
couldn’t believe that I had actually gotten onto a plane and flown to another
country to meet a man that I had only know through a chat program. Granted, the
country in question occupied the same landmass as my own but still, I just did
not do this sort of thing. It was completely out of character for me and I
hadn’t felt like I was on solid ground since I had finalized the arrangements
for the flight.
The worst part about the
whole thing was that I knew this wouldn’t lead anywhere. I knew this from all
the conversations we’d had, I also knew that he’d never had any sexual contact
with another man in real life and while the idea excited him, it also seriously
unnerved him. He really got off on messing around with men online but considered
himself to be essentially straight. I knew he had no intentions of having an
affair. I knew that he loved his wife and I respected that immensely; but, when
he asked if we could meet face to face and really get to know each other, I
just couldn’t refuse. I had no idea what it was about this man but I hadn’t
been able to deny him much of anything since I first met him while goofing off
on a discussion board.
Mild
flirting had quickly turned to hot passion and we had been instant messaging
for most of every day since then. I felt like he had worked some kind of
Haitian voodoo on me, possibly involving the sacrifice of live chickens but
most assuredly considerable chanting and naked dancing. It seemed that no
matter what I was doing at any given moment, no matter where I was, he was on
my mind.
I’ve
heard it said that men think about sex every four minutes. I had that beat by a mile. Every time he popped
into my mind, the first thing I thought of was how wonderful, kind and sweet he is. The second
thing I though of was him naked and sweating under me, groaning hoarsely and
clutching me to him, begging me to make him cum. As a result every time I thought of him, which was averaging around
every two minutes, my dick would twitch. If I was alone and could devote my
thoughts to him I would wind up getting so turned on that my dick would start
leaking. Here I was, a thirty-three-year-old man and I’d become a
fourteen-year-old boy again.
So,
here I was, about to get off of the plane that had brought me up here to meet
him and I felt like I was going to puke or pass out or both. Trying to conceal
the rod of steel I was sporting with my carry-on bag, I followed two huge men who looked like they should be Mob enforcers
down the tunnel from the plane and stepped off
to the side, searching men's faces at the arrival gate. Spotting him, my heart
stuttered in my chest. He hadn’t seen me yet; he was looking closely at
everyone that came out of the debarkation tunnel.
I
watched him searching every face, filling my eyes with him in a way that I
wouldn’t be able to as soon as he saw me. I felt myself trembling and sweating
with the desire to go over to him and take his face in my hands and kiss him,
long and slow, right in front of everyone in the terminal. I knew the longing
had to show on my face, in my eyes. I spent the few remaining seconds I had,
before he spotted me, composing my features and trying to get a hold of my
body. I looked up, from wiping my face with my hand, and our eyes locked across
the slackening flow of passengers.
His
face lit up and he quickly began walking over
to me. My knees felt even weaker and my throat had gone completely dry.
“Martin?
God, man, I was starting to think you hadn’t come after all.” He said,
engulfing my smaller frame in his strong arms, hugging me hard. The contact
made my diaphragm seize, I couldn’t breathe but I could still smell his sweet,
musky cologne. My arms lifted of their own volition and I found myself clinging
to him, my head on his shoulder, breathing in his heady aroma.
The
second I felt the slight shift that told me he
was going to end the hug I let go and pulled away as he did. I didn’t want him
to think I intended to try and start something physical while I was here. I
figured that would make him pull away from me emotionally and I didn’t want him
to do that. I didn’t want to ruin our time together with tension. Stepping
back, I looked up into his beautiful eyes and tried to moisten my throat by
swallowing several times.
“Nah, man. You know how much I wanted to meet you in
person and if I had changed my mind I would have let you know. I wouldn’t have
let you come here, expecting me to be on the plane, only to find out that I had
wussed out. That would be harsh, babe…err…Jack.” I wished I could kick
myself for that slip but he didn’t seem to pay it any mind.
“Let’s
go get the rest of your luggage and we’ll get you checked in to your room, OK?”
he suggested, taking my carry-on off of my shoulder before I could protest. I
quickly swung my laptop case around to the front to shield my groin.
“Sure,
that sounds great. I’m starving, man. I haven’t eaten in, like, two days.”
“Why
not?” he inquired, looking puzzled as he led the way to the baggage claim area.
“Oh,
you know, just too nervous to be able to think about food.” I replied, watching
the people and looking at the advertisements we were passing. Looking at
anything but him, feeling embarrassed that I had actually admitted that to him.
“I’ve
been on the verge of pissing my pants for days, myself, Martin.” He said,
laughing, his eyes shining with mirth.
When
I pointed my two bags out as they glided along on the conveyer belt, he said,
“Jesus fuck, man, you pack like a woman.” and laughed again.
“Well,
I really didn’t know what to expect in the way of weather and activities so I
tried to be prepared for anything, you asshole.” I quipped, punching him
lightly on the shoulder and laughing with him. We collected my two, large bags,
me carrying the carry-on again because he insisted on taking the heaviest ones.
I reminded him that I hadn’t had any help with them on the other end of the
flight and he came back that that was all the more reason for him to help me
now. On the way out to his car I asked after Sheila, his wife, he said that
she’d had to go out of town unexpectedly because her mother had come down with
a nasty bug and needed help for a while.
We
picked up some Chinese take-out on the way to my hotel. I kept my laptop in my
lap the whole way, my erection just would not subside, and it was
incredibly embarrassing. Every thing he did kept my hormones raging. His legs
moving as he worked the pedals; his hand casually resting on the stick shift,
or gripping it when he needed to change gears; the way the steering wheel slid
through the fingers of his left hand when he was straightening up from a turn.
The sound of his voice kept sending tremors down my back.
We
had jacked off together nearly every day since we met and now I found it
impossible to think of anything else. I knew it for certain, now, that I was
some sort of weird masochist, otherwise, I would never have agreed to this meeting, which was going to be a week and a
half of pure, sexual torture.
We
got my stuff up to my room and I started unpacking a little while he set the
food out on the table, just getting my shaving kit into
the bathroom and my robe thrown out on the bed. I pulled out the little
speakers I had brought for my MP3 player and set up a play list so we would
have something filling any empty air that might result from nervousness or
chewing.
If
I had thought that watching him drive was bad, watching him eat was far worse.
The way his tongue would slip out and sort of wrap around the food as he put it
in his mouth with the chopsticks, then close his lips around them and pull them
back out had me nearly climbing the damned walls. He kept up a steady patter of
conversation the whole time, talking about all sorts of things that he wanted
to do or show me while I was there. I commented when I needed to or had
something to say but mostly I ate and tried not to choke on my food when he
would poke me with his chopsticks or nudge me with the back of his hand as he
spoke.
I
had decided that he was one of those people who touch the people they’re
interacting with without thinking about, the sort of
person who is completely comfortable invading a total stranger’s personal space
while passing a brief word with them when in the market. He would probably put
his hand on their shoulder to let them know that he was standing behind them
and reaching past them for a head of cabbage, or whatever, say, “Excuse me,
buddy, just gonna grab this real quick, thanks.” and not even notice the weird
look they gave him. In most anyone else it would be incredibly
irritating, in him it was endearing.
I’m
the sort of person who doesn't like people in
my space and I don’t like being in other people’s
space. It’s uncomfortable for me, always has been. It’s probably because my
family wasn’t big on touching and such so I never got used to it as a child. I
didn’t mind Jack touching me though. I desperately wanted him to touch me in
other ways; but, I knew it wouldn’t happen, so I resigned myself to enjoying
the little contact he offered and would jack off a couple of times in the
shower before going to bed.
When
he unexpectedly reached into my container with his chopsticks to get a sample
of my General Tso’s chicken, the back of his hand brushed along mine and goose
bumps rose over most of my body. My nipples contracted into painfully hard nubs
and my already throbbing cock jerked behind my zipper. Feeling myself begin to
leak, I put my food down and got up quickly to head for the bathroom.
“I gotta piss, man, I’ll be
right back.” I said, as I walked away from the table. Shutting the door behind
me, I immediately opened my baggies and got my dick out to prevent my thong
from absorbing any more moisture than it had already. I turned the water on, to mask the fact that there was no way in hell I was
going to be able to actually piss, wet a washcloth and sat down on the toilet
lid. Taking hold of my dick, I began cleaning myself up, carefully wiping the
precum from the head. God, it felt so good but there
was no way I could get any relief right now with Jack barely fifteen feet away.
The
image of Jack sitting in the other room eating Chinese food, maybe even eating
more out of my container, combined with the stimulation of cleaning off the
head of my cock was too much; I couldn’t resist. My eyes fluttered closed and I
dropped the washcloth so that I could stroke with my dominant hand. I leaned
back against the tank, my head falling back to touch the wall. Biting my lip,
trying to keep quiet, I slowly ran my hand up my shaft. Holding just the head
in my hand, I rotated my fist around it like the Earth wobbling on its axis,
then slid my hand back down the shaft to squeeze the base, forcing precum out
of the slit in a runnel.
Catching
some of it with the finger tips of my free hand, I brought it to my mouth, a
glistening, spider web like, strand connected the tip of my cock to my lips as
my fingers went past them and touched my tongue. My lips closed over them, the
way Jack’s had on his chopsticks and the bathroom door swung open.
“Hey,
Martin, did you want toooo…” I froze, staring at him
with my fingers still in my mouth; he froze, staring at my hand on my engorged
dick. He just stood there, one hand on the door jam, the other on the door
knob, his right leg extended behind him slightly as if he had just taken a step
with his left and had been going to take one with the right to come over the
threshold. His lips still held the shape of the “O” that had trailed into
silence. My eyes dropped to the fly of his jeans, a visible ridge lay directly
behind it. I realized that he had to have already been hard or it would have
been lying at an angle pointing toward one of his hips.
“Oh
God, Jack, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, scrambling to put my dick away, just as he
strode quickly over to me.
“No,
Martin, don’t.” he said, going to his knees right in front of me. He grabbed my
hands and pulled them out of his way, pushing my torso back against the tank he
pulled my baggies open again and wrapped his large hand around the base. I
clutched the edge of the counter to my left and the towel rack to my right, not
knowing what else to do with my hands and whimpered as my hips involuntarily
jerked up at him. When he leaned down and swirled his tongue around the
underside of the head I tried to say something, I’m sure I did, all that came
out was a sort of gurgling sound. Dropping his head lower, he engulfed the head
of my dick in his burning hot mouth, slathering his rough tongue over the
entire thing.
“Oh
God, Jack, I uuuuuhg…” I had tried to warn him so
that he could pull off but the most intense orgasm I’d had in months, maybe
years even, slammed through my body, shutting down the speech center of my
brain. I felt him jolt in surprise when the first jet hit the back of his
throat but he didn’t pull back, in fact, he sucked harder, swallowing and just
kept flicking his tongue around. When the incapacitating spasms passed my entire
body went totally limp and I slid off of the toilet lid and into his lap. My
head fell forward, onto his left shoulder, my lips barely touching the side of
his neck; it was beyond me to do anything more complex than breathe.
“Fuck,
baby, that was hot as shit!” he said, cradling me against his chest, his hands
under the back of my shirt, caressing my damp skin, making me shiver.
“Jack,
why did you do that? I thought…” I started to say but he interrupted me.
“I
couldn’t not do it, baby. I’ve been dreaming about doing that since you
agreed to come here for your vacation. Should I apologize for doing it? Did you
not want me to?” I lifted my head to look into his eyes, such a beautiful blue.
“Jesus,
Jack, did it feel like I didn’t want you to?” I snorted, answering his question
with one of my own. My snort caused my body to shift against him, changing the
pressure my ass was putting on his straining bulge. He gasped in then groaned
out, his hands dropped down and slid inside the back of my shorts. Cupping a
cheek in each palm, he pulled me more firmly against his groin, pressing his
hips upward at the same time. I actually felt my eyes dilate as a fresh
surge of lust rolled through my body from my fingers and toes and in toward my
cock. His eyes were closed to mere slits and his lips were parted. I took
advantage of this without even thinking about.
My
hungry mouth latched onto his and I ran my tongue into his mouth, exploring the
interesting textures I found therein. He caught my moan in his throat and
retuned it with his own. He dipped his fingers into my crack and burrowed them
under the strap of my thong, finding my pucker and pressing on it with two
fingers. My head flew back, tearing our mouths apart, as I cried out. My cock
had suddenly become painfully hard again.
“Fuck,
baby, I want you so bad! Please, Marty, I need to have
you!” he pleaded, licking and sucking the skin of my throat. I hated being
called Marty, from his lips it sounded like a benediction. “Let’s go into the
other room, baby, I wanna see all of you. I wanna touch all of you.” It
didn’t even occur to me to say no. I stood up from his lap, my baggies dropping
to the floor. Slipping my feet out of my Birkenstocks, I headed for the door
and pulled my t-shirt over my head, letting it fall where it would. I looked at
him over my shoulder smiling.
“You coming with me, lover, or will your dick reach
from in there?”
When I was out of sight I
heard him stand to follow. I dug through one of my bags and pulled out a large
bottle of lube just as he came up behind me and pulled my ass into his
denim-clad hardon. Looking over my shoulder he saw what I was holding.
“You
were expecting this to happen, baby?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“No,
I didn’t, you stupid, sexy muthah fuckah! I expected to spend every night jacking
off, like a pubescent zoo monkey, so I’d be able to sleep.” I
answered with all honesty. He threw his head back and roared with laughter.
When he stopped laughing, he started trying to tickle me, making monkey sounds
and I squirmed away from him.
“Stop
it, fuck head.” I said, trying to sound pissed but I couldn’t keep the smile
completely off of my face. Laughing again and grabbing me by the hips, he
pulled me back against him, facing him this time and kisses me with such heat
that my knees nearly buckled. When he pulled back he took the bottle from my
hand and looked at it critically.
“This isn’t going to be
enough for a week and a half, baby, we’ll have to get some more.” He pitched it
onto the queen bed and stepped back to take his clothes off. I watched him
strip, as I moved over to the bed and removed my bright red thong. Lying down,
I waited for him. He left his clothing in a pile at the foot of the bed then
walked around to the side.
“How
do you want me, Jack?”
“God,
I want you bad, sexy!”
“No,
I mean in what way. On my face, my side, my back, how do you want me, baby?”
“Mmm…I
want you every way you’ll let me have you, Marty, but this time, our first
time, I want you facing me so that I can watch you when you cum.” My only
reply was to smile and spread my legs in invitation, running my hands over my
chest and abs. He positioned himself between my thighs and spread himself out
on me, kissing and running his hands over me as if he’d never felt skin before.
I explored the muscles of his back and his ass, licking and nibbling his neck
and shoulder when our mouths weren’t engaged with each other. I decided that he
was holding back, waiting for me to be ready for him so I started humping my
hips into his stomach.
“Jack,
baby, I need you inside of me.” I groaned into his ear. He shuddered
hard and leaned over to get the lube. Straightening up onto his knees, he
heavily coated his engorged cock then carefully worked some into my pucker
making me slick and loosening me a bit. I was surprised at how easily his
mushroom head slid past the outer ring of muscles; it had been an incredibly
long time since I’d been with anyone. He was probably more surprised than I was
because he had given a fairly hard push and wound up sliding in half way before
I tighten involuntarily on his shaft and he stopped. I moaned loudly, arching
my back at the exquisite sensations.
“Uh, Jesus fucking hell, baby!” He gasped, pressing his
face into my neck and thrusting again, burying himself to the hilt. “Oh fuck,
oh fuck, oh fuck! I’m not gonna last, Marty. You feel to goddamned
good!” he was panting like he’d been sprinting.
“Fuck
me, Jack! Fuck me hard, lover!” I demanded, writhing
my hips under his. I knew what the result of this would be and he didn’t disappoint
me in the least. He began thrusting his hips hard; grunting every time his
balls smacked my ass. I don’t know if he knew that he was pounding across my
prostate but he was. I felt my balls tingle and tighten. I hadn’t expected to
cum before he did. I thought that I would need to get him back up so that he
could fuck me a second time but I defiantly felt myself shooting up the rise to
the edge of the precipice.
“Oh
fuck, baby, I’m gonnaaaaa…” I felt his shaft swell
and jerk hard right up against my sweet spot. When his burning hot jism
spattered into me, right in back of where the head of his cock had slammed
upward seconds before, I went flying over into the dark abyss of pulsing,
colored lights that only exists within my mind during an orgasm.
He
was right; we did have to buy a second bottle of lube to finish out the last
four days of my vacation. By the time he took me to the airport for my return
flight, waiting with me and being sure that I got on the plane safely we were
both sore as hell. We hadn’t decided if this would ever happen again but I knew
it would. I knew that I was his as much as his beautiful wife was. I was
neither jealous of her, nor did I resent her. We each of us had a different
part of the same man. The part that he could give to each of us and, for now,
that would be enough for me.