Drink 2
by AKA
I had not heard from my friend in quite some time, which was both worrisome and, to be frank, not totally unexpected. He was prone to bouts of silence, and was not a man tied to his email or mobile like the rest of us. Even so, it was a bit of a surprise when I heard at last from him, and it was in the form of an unusual request and an even more unusual location.
Sorry I’ve been out of touch for the past couple of weeks. I realize we had some plans that I blew off and I apologize for not contacting you earlier. Please meet me at Drink and I’ll explain everything and offer a more personal apology. I know I can make up for everything. I’ve included a map link below. The bar is a bit hard to find, but I promise it’s worth your while.
Wear something comfortable. And tell them Rex sent you.
He was something of a cocktail aficionado, so I had no doubt that wherever and whatever this place was, it would certainly be a unique and interesting experience.
That last line had me wondering exactly what kind of surprise he had in store for me. That was out of character for him. And what was with all the espionage and secret passwords? Was this going to be one of those pretentious speakeasy bars with too many rules and not enough bartenders?
I enjoyed a good drink as much as the next man, but waiting 20 minutes for some organic concoction made from a 100-year-old recipe wasn’t interesting to me. Just hand me a Martini made with a decent gin and some good dry Vermouth and I was a happy lad.
He mentioned a date and time which was, frankly, a bit inconvenient for my schedule, but there was something about his words and his lengthy disappearance that had my curiosity piqued, so I answered in the affirmative and set off at the appointed time to locate this mysterious and “hard to find” establishment.
As it turned out, my friend was not joking regarding the location and discovery of Drink. The neighborhood itself was a collection of buildings that, shall we say, would be better off as rat cages than places of business, and the streets surrounding the bar were both dark and empty. It defied logic that any business would purposely set themselves up in such a place, and it was even more odd that the place itself had no external signage of any kind, let alone a lit-up ‘bar’ indicator in case someone accidentally stumbled by the place.
But according to the map on my cell and his instructions, I found myself standing before a windowless, nondescript edifice with a single door off the street, proper, and no sign that the place was even open. The door was locked, oddly, and there was no bell or other device to let them know you were thirsty.
I knocked, rapping the cold metal door with my knuckles, and a panel slid aside. Hmm, I thought, so it is going to be some Disneyesque pretend bar. This did not inspire happiness in me.
A set of eyes appeared in the darkness of the open panel. Clearly masculine, with a heavy brow and thick lashes set around what was, admittedly, a very interesting and exciting gaze. “Invitation?” the man asked. His voice was deep and had an odd accent, one that I could not immediately place.
“Is this...Drink?”
The eyes moved up and down, indicating a nod. It seemed very dark inside there, and judging by the position of the panel and the height of his eyes, he was either very tall or the floor inside was a few inches above the street. “Invitation?” he repeated.
“Rex? Sent me?” I felt ridiculous saying it, but it did the trick. His eyes indicated a smile had appeared somewhere on that hidden face and the panel replaced itself with a sealing click and the door opened.
I looked down and the floor did not seem to be any higher than the street, so I was not going to trip and fall setting foot inside. It was certainly dark in there, but a heat escaped the bar as the door opened - heat accompanied by a peculiar scent, both familiar and unfamiliar at once. It was as if someone had taken a set of smells one might associate with masculinity, sweat and leather, wood, something else green and something spicy, and mingled them into a new perfume that was at once enticing and dangerous.
The door opened wider and the owner of the dark gaze stepped into the gap. I’m sure my face registered surprise as I looked upon him fully, because he was, quite simply, devastatingly beautiful.
Just as my friend is an aficionado of the mixed drink, I am something of an expert on male beauty. I...collect it, as it were. I may considered quite plain by most, but I know beauty when I see it, even in its raw and unrefined form.
This man was a diamond in the rough - ‘rough’ being a considerably accurate description of his mien. He was very tall, as I had surmised, and somewhat overwhelming as a result. Again, I am not a small man myself, but he was literally head and shoulders above me, standing perhaps six feet and eight or nine inches.
For all his height, he was also, apparently, quite fit. Though he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, with a tie knotted at the nape of his muscular neck and his body was covered up, the clothing was doing a poor job of hiding his physical assets - or, put another way, the clothing was doing a marvelous job of displaying his physical assets.
He was very muscular, in an athletic way. In other words, and at a glance, it appeared that he had obtained his rather remarkable physique not by spending countless hours pushing iron around at a gym, but rather through more athletic activities that lent his body an unabashedly powerful frame. His arms were quite thick and well defined - that was obvious even under the sleeves of his white shirt. The pants he wore seemed tailored for his body, and...then I saw it.
The man’s...bulge.
It was...well...it was...prominent.
It was...obvious.
It was...large.
His crotch tented those slim slacks and made manifest in the most conspicuous manner that either this tall, muscular, handsome brute was stuffing socks in his skivvies, or he was blessed with what I could only surmise was one of the largest sets of sexual equipment that I had ever encountered.
I think I swallowed drily looking at his groin when he said, “Welcome,” and drew my attentions back to his face. It was a series of richly masculine angles, highlighted by those very dark eyes beneath a heavy brow and, again, thick lashes. He was smiling now, with bright white teeth beneath an impressive set of mustaches that turned up at the ends. His jet black hair was slicked back on his scalp with a very distinct part on the left side, and his neck was nearly as thick as his head. “Thank you,” I managed to answer, and then he lifted one of his powerful arms and gestured for me to precede him into the bar.
It was dark, as I had thought, so dark that I required a moment’s adjustment before I could see anything at all. Then the interior details started to manifest and I liked everything that I saw. Dark wood floor boards had been polished to a luster. Three small tables were arranged on the floor, with no one sitting at them at the moment. There was no overhead lighting, and instead several gas lamps with small blue flames were fluttering along the walls.
A large and impressive bar, of the same polished dark wood, took up the entirety of the opposite wall, and the bartender was standing behind it with his hands planted on the surface, looking back at me with a smile on his face.
“Please,” the tall, muscular bouncer said, again gesturing for me to enter. I took a breath - inhaling that odd but enticing scent into my lungs - and followed his instructions. I could feel him looming behind me as we wandered into the room, and he followed me every step of the way as I went toward the bar.
“Hello,” the bartender said, “Welcome to Drink. I’m Ivan.”
I nodded and glanced backwards at the hulking mustachioed brute, who smiled quite warmly, pointed at his meaty chest and said, “Jon.”
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance,” I told them both, and offered my own name before explaining that I was to meet someone here this evening, and he appeared to be late.
Ivan was another impressive specimen. Smaller than the bouncer, but still displaying a body that had to be seen to be believed.
Were these moonlighting Olympic gymnasts? Or professional wrestlers? Maybe they were taking time off from rowing and javelin throwing and archery in their quests to be the most perfect all-around athletic specimens the world had ever seen in order to work at this nondescript bar hidden down an alley in a bad neighborhood.
What other possible explanation was there?
Ivan was similarly attired to his friend, Jon, with an almost identical body and level of muscular development. Did they even partake in the libations they offered? Liquor was almost entirely empty calories, yet these two men looked like they owned about 8% body fat - put together. “Ah, he mentioned you were coming,” Ivan said, smiling. “He didn’t mention that you were so handsome, though.”
I blinked, because I had not expected that - neither the sentiment nor the compliment. “Thank you,” I answered, because it was polite, and though I felt that his words were genuine, it seemed odd that so handsome a man himself would say that I was. Then Jon, still standing behind me (and quite close) seemed to grunt or moan an agreement, and I felt his body brush up against mine. It was brief, but I got the impression that it was intentional.
“What can I make for you,” Ivan asked, “while you wait?”
“You want the special,” Jon intoned behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder. His voice was absurdly deep, and that odd accent - Slavic? German? - made it quite erotic to my ears.
So I said, “I want the special,” and I tried to mimic his voice, but poorly, changing the w into a v and sounding something like a bad 1930’s Hollywood vampire.
Still, I heard the huge man gently laugh behind me, and suddenly his large hand was on my shoulder and he was squeezing me none-too-gently. “I like you,” he said. Was that his warm breath I felt on my neck, or my imagination? The warmth of his hand was also palpable.
Ivan pulled a couple of recognizable bottles onto the bar, along with something that might have been lemon juice and something that might have been milk or egg white. Citrus and milk was not something generally put together. One makes the other curdle. But I assumed he knew what he was doing. “Been open long?” I asked, attempting general conversation. I stood at the bar as Jon continues to loom close behind me.
“Not too long,” Ivan said. I could detect a bit of the same accent that Jon had so thickly on his tongue. He was pouring measurements into a glass and applying a silver shaker on top, lifting the drink above his shoulder and vigorously mixing it. I watched the muscles of his arms and chest swell and flex as he made my drink, amazed again at the development of his body and the odd juxtaposition of that with his occupation. “Are you an athlete?” I asked, genuinely interested.
Ivan put down the shaker and removed the top as he shook his head. “Not really,” he explained. “Why do you ask?”
“Your body,” I said, quite openly, “You seem...quite fit.”
He looked up at me and smiled, saying, “Thank you, sir,” without offering any further explanation. Then he was pouring the milky concoction into a cocktail glass and sliding it towards me. “The first one is on the house, sir,” he said.
Rather than question my good fortune, I simply nodded and took the slim stem into my hand and lifted the glass towards my lips. A pungent, though not unpleasant, scent accompanied the cocktail, and I could discern the juniper from the gin and the lemon quite distinctly. The other sensation wasn’t exactly a scent, so much as a sensation that stung my nostrils and, oddly, sent a thrill of eroticism towards my genitals.
I placed my lips on the edge of the glass, intending to sip its contents, but when the cocktail struck my tongue I had a sudden urge to drink the entire thing down, and so I did.
It was cold, and sweet, but sour, too. Something salty in it, and the milk tasted...familiar. As of course it should, but not exactly like milk. As I set the empty glass down, I asked Ivan, “Is that milk? It’s unusual.”
“It’s a type of milk, yes, sir.”
'Type of milk'? What types were there? I was about to ask for elaboration when Jon set his hand on my shoulder again and said, “Good.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a proclamation, but I nodded and said, “Yes, very good!”
“Another,” Jon said, again in that way of his that was both question and statement. Either way, and without answering, Ivan began to concoct another. Jon’s hand squeezed my shoulder again. It was an agreeable sensation.
“May I ask an odd question?”
Ivan raised one of his elegant eyebrows. Where Jon was a dark storm, Ivan was morning sunlight. He had a full beard on his boyish face, and a thick mane of strawberry blonde hair flowing across his head. His eyes changed from turquoise to mossy green as he moved, and he had a ready smile on his face that made dimples appear high on his cheeks. More beautiful than handsome, but still attractive to an absurd degree. “Of course, sir,” he said. Jon squeezed me again.
“Why did you open a bar here?”
“Here, sir?”
“In this neighborhood?”
“Oh. The neighborhood. Would somewhere else have been more appropriate?”
I wrinkled my brow. “Well, I just mean...if you wanted to open a business, this doesn’t seem all that...successful.”
“Oh, I understand. Well, sir, we have slightly different goals here. Money isn’t as important to us.”
“Us?”
“Drink,” Jon said, squeezing my shoulder again. It felt powerful and comforting. I liked having him so near to me, and I liked having him touch me.
I took the next offered cocktail - noting that it was the same as before - and gulped it down. Two cocktails in so short a time was unusual for me, but they were unavoidably delicious. “Good,” Jon said, in that way of his.
I nodded, because it was, and set the empty glass on the bar. “You were saying?”
Ivan smiled as he took the glass and immediately set about making another one. I started to object, but he said, “This is Jon’s,” with one of his beautiful, open smiles. “I hope you don’t mind.”
I was feeling warm and friendly, and I shook my head. “I hate to drink alone,” I offered, looking over my shoulder.
Either I had forgotten how handsome Jon was, or the liquor was starting to color my senses, but his face - the sheer masculine perfection of if - suddenly made my cock throb and my balls tingle.
He met my gaze with his dark eyes and his full, moist lips parted slightly. I watched him breathing as he looked at me, with the sensation that I was looking at some wild beast about to pounce, or some hungry panther viewing his meal. It made a thrill run down my spine and my body heated up.
He smiled at me, making his thick mustaches lift up and causing his face to become instantly less menacing, but no less sensual. “Good,” he growled. Then his tongue licked his bottom lip and he pulled it inside and ran his teeth along the moist, soft surface.
My breath caught in my throat, and I was staring at this man’s overt masculine perfection when Ivan said, “Have a drink, Jon.” It made the huge, dark man’s midnight gaze move away from mine, and the spell was broken.
He shifted his bulk to my side, leaning against the bar and he was again looking at me as he downed the drink in a single gulp. He closed his eyes and I watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed every drop of the contents, savoring the sensation with something close to ecstasy. “Good,” he groaned softly, and he sucked in a deep breath.
I watched his chest expand and test the strength of the buttons on his shirt. He was, indeed, a monstrously strong man, if the size and thickness of the pectoral plates mounted on his wide upper body were any indication. He stretched his neck around and I watched the tendons and muscle stretch and flex. It was a very sensuous display, and my hand ached to reach up and feel the man’s warm skin, feel the play of his muscles and feel his hardness in my fingers.
With his head bent back and his eyes closed, as if in some ecstatic daze, Jon’s right hand came up to his left pec and he set it there, moving his middle finger very slowly and very carefully over the obvious nub of his prominent nipple. Then he moved the hand down his body, over his flat belly and his belt buckle, until it rested on his ominous and alarming bulge where he proceeded, quite openly, to squeeze, caress and rub himself with open and erotic pleasure. A deep, heavy moan escaped his throat, and when I looked up again, his ebony gaze was locked on me as he continued, with apparent disregard to propriety, to fondle himself with his strong, large hand.
He smiled at me, as if reading my mind, and all the filthy thoughts circling inside.
“How about you, sir?”
Ivan’s voice drew me back from my reverie, but I could not take my eyes off of Jon’s innate and very powerful display of male beauty. “Me?” I asked. I was growing hotter by the minute, but I did not know if that was from the drink, the dick, or my proximity to a man of such overwhelming strength and power.
“Would you care for another?”
“I...I think I should pause until my friend arrives,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself before he even got here.”
“Embarrass yourself, sir? Not possible,” Ivan advised. “You’re among friends here, and you should feel absolutely comfortable to act on any desires you may have.”
“I think… I think I should…”
“Is there anything you might wish at the moment, sir? I’m sure Jon would be happy to provide you with anything.”
Jon looked down at me and smiled. “Drink,” he said, like an order. His hand was still slowly squeezing his overwhelmed basket, and as I looked down again I could quite easily see what effects he was having on his ample equipment.
He certainly had not stuffed any socks in his underwear - if he was even wearing underwear. The growth he was manifesting, indeed encouraging, beneath his tight trousers was providing ample evidence that my suspicions concerning Jon’s natural assets were woefully understated.
What was growing down there, as he caressed himself in an open display of self-love and male power, was a thick shank of prick slowly lengthening along his thigh, swelling thicker by the inch as its flared helmet snuck closer and closer towards his knee.
“My god,” I said, without thinking. Then I swallowed thickly and blinked to clear my head. No one was that big. I had to be drunk. I looked at it again, and its details and ample dimensions seemed even more distinct than before. “Oh my god.”
Jon lowered his head and matched my gaze. His eyes were on fire. “Good,” he said, deeply.
“Sir?” Ivan asked. “May I pour you another?”
“Drink,” Jon advised, smiling. He did not take his hand from his crotch, but he used the other to grasp the cocktail glass off the bar and lift it to my lips. He tipped the rim up and I felt the cold liquid kiss me, so I opened my mouth and he poured it inside as I swallowed hungrily. “Good,” he said.
“Jon,” Ivan spoke his name calmly. “Would you escort our friend to a chair? I think he needs to sit down for a moment.”
Jon nodded as he placed his hand on my shoulder and steered me toward one of the empty tables. I sat down rather abruptly and when I looked up, I was face-to-crotch with his magnificent, unruly and wholly unbelievable bulge, which by this time had manifested itself into an artful and rather lewd display of every piece of ample sexual equipment at the huge man’s disposal.
He was no longer caressing and squeezing himself, and it did not appear that he needed to. He continued growing bigger and bigger inside his trousers, freely swelling and lengthening without aid. His cock pressed itself against the material as if struggling to rip itself free, and the length of the monster was truly impressive, if not impossible.
I heard the sound of glass on wood as Ivan set my fourth round on the polished bar and Jon left me momentarily to fetch it. I looked after him as he left the table and audibly gasped at the site of his truly awesome ass.
Perhaps so much meat was growing in the front that it was pulling all the excess material there to house it. His muscular bubble butt was showcased to its best possible aspect in the manner that the seat of his pants grasped each round, perfect hump, its seam splitting the two globes of meat into distinct hemispheres. I could almost imagine what this man would look like naked as he strode his powerful and meaty rump before me like a prize.
He turned, having retrieved my next cocktail. It looked thicker than the previous, and whiter as well. “Is that the same thing as before?” I asked.
Jon only smiled more brightly, making his dimples deepen and those mustaches to twist up in a most inviting manner. Ivan said, “I cut back on the alcoholic content, sir, since you expressed some concern. But I didn’t want to give you a short pour, so I added a bit more of our special ingredient.”
“The milk?”
“Yes, sir. Our milk.”
“Our milk,” Jon repeated. He watched me as he lifted the glass to his own lips, gulping the entire contents inside, and then he leaned towards me, his handsome face growing closer and closer and I realized he meant to kiss me.
I obligingly allowed his lips against mine, then something warm and wet was pressing against my mouth and I opened my lips. He released the contents of his own mouth, now warm and thick, into my own as we kissed, and I found myself gulping the thick fluid hungrily.
It tasted so good. So rich and full and powerful. I had never tasted anything like it.
This time, as the cocktail moved down my throat and branched out like cool liquid silver, a sudden and almost violent throb of sex shook me and made my cock suddenly throb and bulge and my balls tingle. The hair on my head seemed to tighten and the heat I had been feeling grew intense for a heartbeat. I gasped, I think, and shut my eyes tightly.
I heard something, then. Something distinctive and quite hard to ignore. The sound of a zipper being pulled down.
Opening my eyes, Jon’s enormous cock had been extracted from its cage and was pushing forth from his loins in all its meaty glory. He was stroking himself, now, and I looked up towards his face and he was looking at me, very intently and directly, as he jerked himself off. “What’s going on?” I asked, drowsily.
“Good,” Jon said, and he smiled. He held onto his shank in one hand and moved his fingers to the end of his mammoth erection and rubbed off the thick droplet of pre-cum that had gathered there, and then he moved the fingers between his full, soft, sensuous lips and sucked it off. “Drink,” he groaned.
“I see you’ve already met Jon,” I heard a new voice say, and turning toward the door another tall, broad and obviously muscular figure was entering. “You must have made a good impression if he’s offering you himself already.”
I recognized my friend’s voice, but as the door closed behind him and his silhouette solidified into his person, I did not immediately recognize him.
His face had changed. Indeed, every single physical aspect about him had changed rather drastically. His thinning hair was now thick and luxurious, a lustrous gold mane that fell across his shoulders and hung forward across one eye. He owned a growth of beard on his chin and cheeks and neck, and he was wearing clothing that I knew would not normally be found in his closet. “Hello,” he said to me as he approached. “I’m so very happy you came.”
“What..what’s…?” My tongue was having difficulty, as indeed was my brain. I felt fuzzy and indistinct, but also horny as hell. My cock hurt. My balls felt like lead weights. My skin was on fire.
My friend smiled and looked at Ivan. “How many has he had?”
“Four, and the last was a double.”
He looked at me. My god, what had become of him. He was...gorgeous. And his body. Not as massive as Jon, nor even as Ivan, but he was big. Much bigger than he had been when I last saw him. And he was wearing a black ribbed cotton tanktop and tight jeans that hugged every contour of his impressive bulk. “My, my, we have been busy.” Then he quite easily and without preamble took hold of Jon’s still-swelling cock and squeezed him hard. “Nice to see you again, too,” he told Jon, or told his cock.
Then my friend fell to his knees beside me, opened his mouth, and welcomed the swollen helmet of Jon’s enormity inside. His cheeks sunk as he sucked noisily on the fat shank, and almost immediately he was rewarded by what was obviously a very thick, very full, nearly overwhelming amount of cream that shot into his mouth and filled it to overflowing.
I watched him nearly gag on the volume and velocity of Jon’s sudden delivery. Droplets of cum like pearls appeared at the corners of his mouth, but he gave it his all and managed to swallow the gush of hot cum that the huge man seemed to have delivered by request. “Good,” he said.
My friend’s throat was bulging and flexing as he drank the huge man’s copious flow as if he were some spigot designed to unleash a flood of his cream. There was no potent and obvious stimulation of Jon’s fat prick, he was simply and easily pumping himself into my friend's mouth. More, it seemed as if he were feeding my friend from his fount of rich cream, and my friend swallowed it with the greed of a baby sucking milk.
Jon closed his eyes and groaned like a bear. He reached up, tearing his shirt open and applied his thick fingers to his nipples, circling their fat nubs with evident self-worship, stretching his head on his neck, showing tendons and muscle pressing against his skin. He grabbed his nipples hard and began to twist and pinch them, and I heard my friend gulp and gag. Looking down, it seemed that Jon’s flood had redoubled as he tortured himself, like twisting the valves of a gushing faucet.
“Good,” Jon growled deeply. And then he looked down and smiled, moving his hands to back of my friend’s head and forcing his mouth all the way onto his pumping tool.
“Drink.”
I looked down. As I was watching, my friend seemed to shudder or sigh and then - and I honestly could not believe my eyes - he was growing. Rather, his muscle was growing. I could see, actually watch with my own eyes, as his shoulders expanded and his neck thickened and his lats spread wider. Not by much, but enough that I could see it occur. I had to blink to be sure that I was witnessing what I thought I was witnessing.
My friend was growing muscle as I watched, and seemingly as a result of sucking on Jon’s fat prick and swallowing his warm, salty load.
It was an oddly sensual process. His shoulders and arms displayed the most visible growth, and I could see new fibers of muscle seemingly appear from nowhere, threads of power multiplying on his already impressive brawn. He was swelling up with power, his muscular development increasing the longer he sucked down Jon’s gushing flow. His chest was also thickening, stretching the material of his black ribbed tank, swelling forward as if inflating.
This went on for some minutes as I, enthralled and in disbelief, watched the process occurring. Jon fed my friend from his prick, and in turn my friend was growing.
“Good,” Jon said again, in his usual taciturn style, and then he was lifting up my friend’s chin and looking down into his eyes. “Good,” he repeated, and my friend’s mouth came off the cock with an audible pop and he smiled.
He licked his lips with evident bliss and care, wanting every drop of the food he had been given, and then he was regaining his feet. “Very good. Thank you, Jon.” He leaned towards the huge, handsome man and kissed his mouth. Then he looked at me and asked, “So, how do you like this place?”
His nonchalant attitude was puzzling. Had I just seen what I had just seen? Perhaps it was normal here for these actions, the casual exchange of sexual pleasure with one man sucking another man’s cock to ejaculation, but surely there was no place where the other man would begin to develop new, fresh, hard muscle that pressed out against his skin as he grew larger with power and might.
I looked at him, my eyes falling along his contours, his dimensions, trying to measure the man I had seen only moments ago against the man I was looking at now. He was bigger, wasn’t he? Or was I merely drunk?
He tilted his head and smiled. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I...what just happened?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I looked at him and then I looked at Jon. “You…. He….”
My friend looked towards Ivan and said, “Can you give my friend another round? I think he needs it.”
“Of course,” Ivan answered at once, and then as if anticipating the request, another of the milky, delicious cocktails was on the bar.
“Drink,” said Jon.
I looked at it, uncertainly. “Jon,” my friend said, “would you be so kind?”
Jon, the handsome brutal giant, grunted and reached across me. I could feel tremendous heat pouring from his body as he took the glass and lifted it to his full lips. This time the cocktail looked like pure milk, 100%.
His eyes met mine as he poured the thick contents inside his mouth, and then he was leaning his face down towards mine and his hand was behind my neck.
He pulled my mouth to his and pressed his soft, warm lips against mine. He was prying my mouth open with his tongue and instantly a flood of the familiar taste of the cocktail, warmed now by this man’s mouth, entered mine.
I gulped because I could not help it. The taste was now slightly altered, perhaps because it was warm, or perhaps I was tasting something of Jon’s essential masculine flavor. I closed my eyes and swallowed all of it, and then my body was heating up very quickly and a sensation of sexual bliss was erupting in my chest and shooting towards my cock.
I could feel it happen as if this gulp of alcohol was sex itself, poured inside me from Jon’s warm, wet mouth and now it zeroed in on my groin and swam unerringly into the throbbing inches of my cock and filled my balls with warm sex.
Jon continued kissing me, wrestling my tongue with his, keeping our mouths together with his hand behind my head as if he was directing this sensation of sex through me. The kiss was passionate and erotic and he reached down with his other hand and grasped my throbbing hard-on, squeezing me hard and rough.
The kiss redoubled in passion, as if he intended to crawl inside my mouth. The feeling of sexual bliss grew stronger, brighter, hotter, and he was kneading and teasing my prick with a deft and strong hand.
Someone was opening my pants. Hands, two or three or four, were pulling apart the button and zipper and digging my throbbing meat from my shorts. Then, warm wetness surrounded me.
Jon’s kiss did not abate. It seemed to go even deeper. I was drunk or intoxicated. I felt sublime and heavy and unfocused. The mouth on my lips and the mouth on my cock were one mouth, kissing and sucking and licking. My whole body was hot. My cock was rock hard.
My toes curled. A trickle of sweat wound down my back to tickle the crack of my ass. My pants were pulled down, and someone was cupping, squeezing, kneading my balls. My huge, fat, swollen balls.
I felt it. It was deep inside me, and shooting towards my cock.
Electricity. Thunder. Liquid silver.
I began to shoot my load into the mouth sucking my cock. I could not stop, did not want to stop, wanted to push my soul from my hot body into the man sucking my dick.
Jon was kissing me.
Jon was sucking me.
I came.
Hard.
Harder.
Everything.
Black.
How have you been? I know you haven’t heard from me in some time. Apologies. I’ve been a bit busy with some new friends I’d love you to meet. I think you’ll really like them. Don’t worry, they’re very friendly. I know how you are around new people, and I want to assure you that we’ll all get along just fine. If you’ve got nothing to do tonight, we’ll be at the location I’ve linked to below. Just a small neighborhood bar. Very friendly.
Tell them Rex sent you.
END