An American Muscleman in London 18
by Londonboy
The Second Full Moon - Continued
I woke up Tuesday morning and looked at the clock beside my bed. I was shocked to see that it said nine o’clock. I had not slept so late since getting over my jet lag. I was also quite used to waking up early – and usually with a raging hard on. I was also shocked that I could not remember any dreams from the previous night. My most recent nights had been so filled with vivid images that I was surprised to find one so empty. I didn’t wake up tired, as a matter of fact I felt great and was very rested. Still, I could tell that my deep sleep had been caused by some internal fatigue that could not be explained. When I fell on the bed the night before, it was as if I had been through some huge storm – battling for my life in some way. At least that’s how my body had felt when I got into bed last night. This morning, however, things were definitely different. Even if I had been forced to explain the difference I would have been unable to. I just knew my body felt differently than it ever had before. Don’t get me wrong - it was a good feeling. No, it was a great feeling. I felt more alive in some way. It was much more than being rested. It was more like I had received some kind of energy transfusion or I had taken an entire bottle of vitamins.
Even with this newfound energy, I didn’t get out of bed quickly. I found myself trying to replay the evening at Manfred’s house and the moments leading up to it, but realized that large chunks of memory were very hazy. I remembered talking to Roger on the phone while sitting at Trafalgar Square and I could vividly re-live arriving at Manfred’s home. My mind wandered a short while on the furnishings and the beauty of his place, but then all focus turned to Manfred’s gorgeous face. I immediately remembered making a fool of myself by not being able to speak when I looked at him. I covered my face with my hands and moaned out loud. The moment made me self-conscious even now. The feeling of my bent arms moving into place suddenly cut my groan from embarrassment short. Every part of my upper body felt tight. It was such a strange feeling that I just lay there with my hands over my eyes and explored the sensation with just my mind.
My bent arms felt padded in some way. I knew I was completely nude, but it seemed like I was wearing a few layers of skin-tight lycra or something. It is difficult to explain how slight changes in something so familiar as your own body can be easily noticed. I would compare it to feeling a slightly scratchy throat as a warning that you are coming down with a cold. But this was, in no way, a feeling of discomfort or a precursor to sickness. No, the tension in my biceps, my shoulders, and my chest was definitely connected to the energetic pulse that was running through my body. Even before I removed my hands from my face I knew that my body was transformed in some way and I was sure the change was for the good. I kept my arms in the air as I opened my eyes. I gasped out loud when my sight landed on my biceps in front of me. Don’t get the idea that I had become some massive green hulkster or anything, my reaction was mainly because my arms were definitely more defined than they had ever been in my entire life. I sat up quickly and marveled at the fact that my abs and back were able to lift my body from the mattress with great ease. This sudden realization made me forget about my arms for a brief moment and I looked down at my stomach.
“Oh my god,” I said out loud.
I saw definite ridges across what used to be my narrow, but fleshy, lower torso. I instinctively tensed my stomach and my abdominals were immediately more pronounced. It was barely noticeable, but remember I have lived with this body for many years and even the slightest change caught my eye.
“I have abs! I’ve got fucking abs. How is that possible?” I spoke to no one in particular and to the entire world at the same time. “Damn. If someone had told me working out could affect me this way so quickly, I would have started a long time ago.”
A thought ran across my mind, but I pushed it away immediately. For a split second I contemplated the notion that my few work out sessions could not have caused such quick results, but then I let the joy of how my body looked overcome my doubt. It is amazing how we will sometimes ignore common sense just to celebrate a long-desired outcome. It would be weeks before I allowed myself to re-evaluate the physical progress I now beheld. For now, all I cared about was the fact that I could see the benefits of my daily runs through London and my few times at the gym. I glanced back at my raised arms and tensed my hands, which affected all that was connected. My biceps – once cute, but slightly loose because of not exercising regularly – were now tight and bunched into small mounds. I also noticed some semi-pronounced veins in my forearms. I released my tensed fists and was astounded that my arms continued to look muscular. Even relaxed, my arms seemed to be more built than before. I suddenly had an urge to go to the gym and do a bunch of curls like Quan had shown me. I wanted to see these arms in action. My dream of working my arms was only interrupted because I glanced down at my chest and what I saw actually made me scream. I couldn’t believe it – the once sunken flesh-covered pectorals that I was used to seeing were now replaced by molded, hard, faintly protruding muscle. For the first time in my life I actually had a crevice between my pecs. I brought my arms inward and squeezed the newly formed small slabs of meat together. I watched in amazement, as my dark erect nipples shot out further because of the flex. I released the tension and smiled because my chest actually stayed a chest! It dawned on me that shirts would now hang differently on my body. Instead of falling straight down and looking like some kind of poncho just held up by my shoulders, I realized that the slight shelf created by this mass of muscle would cause loose shirts to hang a little distance from my tight abs - and this would be a completely new feeling for me. For the first time in my life I wanted to own a tight white tank top that would show off the tapered look my body now possessed.
It’s crazy how even small gains, when trying to build up your body, can fuel you on to incredible dreams of future possibilities. I lay back down on the bed and closed my eyes again. I ran my right hand over my left arm, amazed at how it felt so different and even larger than it really was. I began to imagine my muscles growing to the level of competitive bodybuilders. I flexed my left bicep and grabbed the hard skin-covered ball underneath, which in my fantasy-like-state was now the size of a mountain. I stopped flexing and moved both of my hands to my chest, squeezing what I imagined were boulder-sized piles of muscle. I was completely lost in visions of a super-sized Anthony. At some point I slipped away from reality and moved from a simple dream of what I could become to a lust-filled, totally irrational knowledge that I was slowly becoming the muscled behemoth that filled my mind. In some distant corner of my mind I fully understood that I had lost control of my senses and was letting some kind of fantasy rule my thoughts, but on another level I saw that the body I envisioned was my future. The mixture of feeling hard bumps of muscle on my body for the first time and seeing vividly that a muscle monster lived somewhere deep inside of me, caused me to ignore all rational thought and enter into the bliss of my dream completely.
My right hand moved instinctively down to my stomach. I felt the ripples of my new abdominals and, to me; they seemed to be deep valleys cut in stone. I let my fingers move slowly down the hills and crevices until they met the tip of my cock that was already emitting drops of pre-cum. The interruption of my muscle worship jarred me a little, because I had been so focused on my new body that I had not even realized I was fully, and painfully, hard. I let the tips of my fingers slide back and forth across the strained, pulsing slit of my cock head. Shivers of delight and anticipation of release shot through my body. My thumb was still caressing my newly discovered abs as my fingers caused more of my warm, sticky juice to leak out. I lifted my palm, laid it across my hard rod and then moved both back and forth across my stomach. Even my rigid cock could feel the slight ridges newly formed where there used to only be smooth, somewhat flabby flesh. This simple movement caused my aching balls to pull inward and my lower back came off of the mattress in a small arc because of the eruption building within me. I abruptly stopped all motion. It was obvious that moving to orgasm would bring an end to my sudden awareness of what my body could become – no, that wasn’t right – it was what my body would become. Yes, that slight change in thought resonated deeply in my soul. It was totally irrational, I know, but I was getting a glimpse of what I would develop into. Even if the present changes in my body merely took me from a non-athletic ectomorph to one that seemed to be on the path of being able to bulk up slightly, I somehow knew that I was headed for a different greatness. My body was going to change in ways that no one could imagine. My physique was headed to something that was god-like. It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. I was going to get huge and that made me very excited.
This last thought seemed to take over my body and caused me to wrap my hand fully around my throbbing cock. I moved to the tip of the hard pole and squeezed tight. I registered, for a second, that the top of my hand met my tensed chest. I knew this wasn’t possible because my cock, really my best friend since puberty, was not that big. I chalked the experience up to the way I must be laying on the bed and ignored the sudden surprise. I released my grip a little and began sliding down my member slowly and deliberately. At the same time that my hand gave my cock its much-needed pump, I was able to register the feeling of my thumb running down my abs. I brought my left hand up to my chest, guiding it directly to my right nipple. My forefinger and thumb clamped tightly on the protruding nub of flesh; while my other hand came back up the long pole, now getting ready to explode. I started pumping my dick quickly as I mercilessly pinched my nipple, knowing there were going to be bruises appearing later in the day. I was too “juiced up” inside to avoid shooting my load quickly. My visions of my future body, combined with the awareness of the changes that had already happened, were enough to bring me to climax alone. The stroking of my cock and the vice-like grip on my chest were used merely to intensify the impending eruption. And what a blissful moment my volcano-like orgasm was!
I opened my eyes as my entire body froze like a pornographic statue set in hard marble. Every inch of my body seemed to be strained as my breathing stopped, my heartbeat paused, and my sight focused solely on the gaping hole at the end of my dick. The first discharge of cum shot out like a roman candle on the fourth of July. I was so tense that I could not even shut my eyes as milky substance shot into the air and came down hard on my face and beyond my head. My vision blurred and my eyeballs stung as semen fell in and around them. My mouth, open because of a silent scream caused by the release of pressure built up in my body, received huge globs of cum which landed on my tongue and slid down my throat. After the first ejaculation, my limbs and muscles had no time to recover. My back arched up even higher as the second wave of hurricane Anthony-juice sprayed across my body and the bed. It was hard to believe, but the force of my orgasm seemed to increase with each blast instead of decreasing. On the third splattering of cum I somehow found my vocal cords and emitted a cry that sounded like a large wounded animal. A rapid succession of jolts through my body culminated in more shots of jism onto my chest, abs, and then dripping down my still, rock-hard prick. During the last few thrusts of my cock nothing came out of its now purple colored tip. I was completely spent and there wasn’t anything remaining in my tensed body. My back fell to the mattress, my hand slid from my rod, I released my aching nipple, and I closed my eyes, falling back asleep immediately.
I only dozed for about fifteen minutes. I fell into a very deep sleep, though, and my mind was full of huge body parts. Every picture in my dream during that time was of pumped up, sweaty, rippling, massive muscles. It was like watching a DVD that highlighted the best parts of bodybuilders from around the world. There didn’t seem to be a point to the dream, but when I woke up I realized right away it signified that my own body was recovering from my tsunami-sized orgasm. I opened my eyes after waking and felt completely refreshed. No, I felt better than refreshed, I felt energized and ready to work out my new body.
I glanced at the clock and saw that I just had enough time to get showered and dressed before I left to meet Manfred at Martin’s house. I jumped out of bed quickly and, as I walked to the bathroom, I noticed, because of my improved body, that even walking felt different. I seemed to be more poised, somehow, as if I were standing more erect. I also detected a feeling that couldn’t be named. If I had been forced to put a word to what I sensed in myself it might have been ‘attitude.’ I seemed to have an awareness of myself that had not existed before. I glanced in the mirror after leaning over to start the water for my shower and I was caught off guard at how my own reflection surprised me. My first thought, after I saw myself, was how hot I looked. This was something totally new for me – an acknowledgement right-off-the-bat of how I was turning into a sexy stud. A surge of energy, caused by the glance in the mirror, rocketed to my crotch and caused my resting cock to arch slightly upward. I looked down and smiled. My cock arched! It suddenly dawned on me that in order for my trusted friend to bend in this fashion it had to be longer. I realized this was impossible, but a man had the right to imagine, didn’t he! It was weird how looking at my own cock turned me on a little and then caused the arc of the tool to disappear, as it grew straighter and harder. It was like some kind of weird lust cycle where seeing my dick turned me on, which made it grow harder, which turned me on more, and then continued to send me down a path that could easily make me late for meeting Manfred. I shook my head to clear the thoughts about my cock and reached over to turn off the hot water. I knew the only way I would make my appointment to visit Martin was to force myself into the proverbial tool-shriveling cold shower. I stepped into the shower, cussed out loud as cold water streamed over my new body, tried hard not to grope myself too much as I lathered up with soap, and stepped back out into the bathroom after rinsing off. I finished getting ready without looking at myself in the mirror and even chose not to shave – there was too much of a risk that I’d give in to the temptations caused by my reflection.
I stepped into the bedroom and chose a polo shirt from the dresser. I yanked it over my head and then tried to pull it down over my shoulders and arms. I was stunned to find that the shirt was skintight. I pulled down hard and, when I finally managed to get the shirt over my chest, I found that it only came down to just above my belly button. I stopped to acknowledge that exercising really was helping my body, but that it was also going to cause a little pain on my bank account. I couldn’t keep buying new clothes all the time. I knew I looked like some trashy gay boy going to a rave, so I turned to the dresser to grab another shirt. The movement of my upper body was too much for the stretched shirt. I heard a ripping sound and immediately looked in the mirror above the dresser to see that the fabric had torn behind my arm where the sleeve was connected to the shoulder. I turned my body to the other side and this time I was able to watch the shirt tear as I moved. I also saw that the sleeves were very tight around my hard biceps. Both the ripping sounds and the sight of my biceps made all the blood in my body rush to my crotch area. I actually got a little light headed.
“Oh no you don’t, Anthony, you need to be focused,” I said out loud to make myself stay on task. I instinctively knew the shirt was ruined so I reached up to the v-neck opening, grabbed both sides, and simply ripped it off my body. Even while I was doing it, I couldn’t believe I would do such a thing. I had watched enough muscle worship videos to know that this action turned me on greatly, but I never dreamed there would come a day when I would be destroying a shirt on my own body. The fabric easily ripped from my body and I let the remnants of the shirt fall to the floor. I stood there for a few seconds waiting for my engorged member to calm down and hoping my heavy breathing would subside. Eventually, I felt like I could move without causing a wave of excitement to rush to my crotch area. I reached down and found an extra large sweatshirt that I knew would cover my upper body. I slipped it on over my head. The shirt was tight, but it wasn’t constricting. I didn’t want to ruin any of my slacks, so I just grabbed some cargo pants that fit snuggly over my quads. I was amazed to find that I had some extra room at the waist, though. This was also something new. I forced myself not to think about my body as I finished dressing. I kept my mind on Martin, who might be near death. This made me want to get to his house more quickly. I slipped on some sandals, noticing that even these were tight, grabbed my wallet and keys, left the flat, and caught the Tube to the stop near Martin’s home.
All the way over to Martin’s side of town my mind was only on him. I had forgotten the improved parts of my body, the wild night with Paulo, and, even, all of my strange dreams and focused only on the health of my first friend in London. I kept thinking about Martin’s zest for life and his great laugh. I could not believe someone that had been so important to my first few days in this new city was now very ill. As I walked up to Martin’s beautiful home I saw Manfred getting out of his car in the driveway.
“Hello Manfred,” I said to catch his attention.
“Hi Anthony. It is so good that you came. How are you feeling today? You left the party so abruptly last night. Oh, by the way, Paulo was fine. He called me this morning to say that he had to leave because he was clumsy and got something all over his pants. He said he was too embarrassed to come in and say goodnight.” Manfred said all of this as he pulled a bunch of “get well” balloons from his car.
I immediately regretted not bringing something for Martin. I also suddenly had a vivid memory of Paulo creaming in his pants because I easily overpowered him. It seemed like a far away dream, but I knew it had actually happened. All of this came to a halt as soon as Manfred stood and turned toward me. He was dressed in a dark suit with a light blue shirt and a floral tie. The sun caught his hair and his piercing eyes. I felt my stomach turn when he looked directly at me and smiled. I did not, however, become speechless. I was able to maintain some composure.
“I am glad Paulo is okay and, yes, I’m doing fine. I’m sorry I left so quickly; I think it was all of the alcohol. It just went to my head so fast and caused me to act in very strange ways. I’m fine today. As a matter of fact, I feel fantastic. I am worried about Martin, though.” I said as we moved towards the front door.
“I’m worried about him, as well,” Manfred replied and then added, “And you do look rather robust today, Anthony.”
This comment made me blush a little. We stopped at the front door and Manfred continued to stare at me. It made me very self-conscious. He had a puzzled look on his face.
“Something is different about you, Anthony. I cannot tell what it is, but something is definitely different.” He continued to look at me and I quickly turned and rang the doorbell, so I did not have to look directly at him. “It must have something to do with all that exercise you are getting,” Manfred was interrupted when John opened the front door. I was standing face to face with Martin’s employee and he still reminded me of someone else, in a very strong way. I just couldn’t think of whom.
“Hello, gentleman. It is so kind of you both to come,” John said stepping back to allow us to enter the large foyer. I again glanced up at the pictures that hauntingly resembled both Manfred and myself. The sight of the paintings somehow lessened my anxiety about Martin. I could not understand why, but I knew, deep down, that our friend was going to be okay. I also knew there was some intense connection between Martin and myself that could not be explained. It was much more than a good friendship and, to add more to the mystery, I somehow knew it involved Manfred, as well. I stood in the large front room of Martin’s place and felt more at peace than I had in a very long time. It reminded me of one of Romeo’s speeches towards the end of Shakespeare’s play:
“How oft when men are at the point of death, have they been merry – which their keepers call a lightning before death.”
Was this feeling some kind of calmness before the passing of my good friend or was it some kind of sign that Martin was going to be fine. I could not tell and I wasn’t sure if seeing Martin was going to help to sort through my confusion. John’s demeanor made it clear that Martin was not doing well, at all. I glanced at Manfred and saw great distress in his face. My heart was full of sympathy for this gorgeous man. Because of my own sadness about Martin, I had been selfish and forgot that these two men had been friends for a very long time. The slight pain I was feeling must be nothing compared to how Manfred’s heart was breaking. I had a strong desire to put my hand on his shoulder, but couldn’t for some reason.
“How is he John?” Manfred asked.
“I am afraid even worse today. He has not been able to eat for a while and he is so very weak. The doctors have no idea what is wrong and they have just tried to make him as comfortable as they can. He is awake and waiting for you both. Let us go up quickly because he will need to rest soon.” John’s somber mood was obvious as he spoke. He turned and led us up the stairs, down a hallway, and we slowly entered the master bedroom of Manfred’s home. I was quickly amazed at how modern the room was and how Martin had every technological up-to-date gadget available. My mind was quickly taken away from all the stuff in the room when I saw Martin propped up on pillows in his bed. He looked very fragile and pale. He smiled as we entered the room, but I could tell he was in pain. He raised his hand slightly from the bed, gesturing for us to come closer. Manfred walked around to the side of the large bed where Martin lay. He grabbed the older man’s hand with both of his.
“So good of both of you to come. Thank you,” Martin whispered to us. I moved beside Manfred and smiled at our sick friend.
“Of course, Martin. Do you need anything? Is there something we can do to make you more comfortable?” Manfred asked quickly, trying to hide the sadness in his voice.
“No, Manfred. Thank you very much. John is taking very good care of me. I will be fine. It’s just a little virus or something.” Martin answered, but the sound of his voice made it obvious that he didn’t have just a simple virus. “Anthony, my dear friend, you look so good. Working out agrees with you. You are much bigger than before. You must continue to make yourself very strong.” Martin stared at me as he spoke and it seemed like he was warning me so I would not someday become fragile like him, but I also thought there was something more to his comments. I turned red at the compliment about my body and looked down at the floor.
“I will Martin,” I said looking back up to the man, “but right now we need to focus on you getting stronger, okay? You have so much more to show me in London and someone has to have pints with me at Halfway to Heaven.” This made Martin smile and, for a second, the well-known twinkle returned to his eyes.
“Do not worry, gentlemen, my days of drinking pints are not over,” Martin said, squeezing Manfred’s hand, and then adding, “Now promise me that no matter what happens there will be no sadness and that both of you will remain close to each other.”
It was clear that Martin’s words caught Manfred by surprise as much as they did me. His statement also caused tears to form in my eyes. I did not dare reach up to wipe them away, for I wanted to appear fearless for Martin. I had not been prepared to hear him even contemplate that he would not get better. Manfred took a deep breath and I knew he was also trying hard not to show he was getting emotional. This time, without even thinking about it, I placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezed it tightly, and left it there. As soon as I touched the beautiful man beside me two things happened. First, there was a jolt of energy that shot through my body. No, it wasn’t energy exactly, it was something more soothing and, yet, powerful at the same time. The feeling was so incredible that I left my hand on Manfred’s shoulder just to see if it would continue, and it did. The second thing that happened, and it was almost unnoticeable, was that some color came into Martin’s face. I could not believe it. If I had not been staring at the man I would have missed it, but his cheeks actually looked healthier. I was immediately sure that Manfred missed the slight change, but our sick friend, as if to confirm it, looked directly into my eyes with a glance of shared awareness. I smiled at Martin, because I could see the elder man still hoped for a spark to ignite between Manfred and me. It made my heart full of love for him. I also left my hand on Manfred’s shoulder to help give the impression that Martin’s desired connection between the two men in front of him was still possible. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I would never be Manfred’s type. John, standing behind us, cleared his throat as a sign that he was about to speak.
“Gentleman, I am sorry, but I believe Martin now needs to rest.” John’s devotion to the sick man was obvious and helped Manfred and I to begin our exit. Manfred brought Martin’s hand up to his lips and kissed it softly.
“I will come again, tomorrow, Martin. Get some rest. Have John call me if you need anything.” Manfred’s voice was still shaky, but he covered his fear as best he could.
“I’ll come back, as well, Martin,” I said placing my hand on the frail man’s leg covered by the bed’s blanket.
“Perhaps I will be strong enough for us to have some tea together,” Martin said in a clearer voice.
“Perhaps,” replied Manfred smiling and laying Martin’s hand back down on the bed.
“That would be nice. See you tomorrow Martin,” I said removing my hand from Manfred’s shoulder, nodding my head, and then turning to leave the room. I could feel Manfred following me.
“Take care of each other,” Martin said as we reached the door.
“We will,” Manfred answered.
As I stepped into the hallway, tears finally found their way down my cheeks. I walked a few steps down the hall, not wanting to turn around and show Manfred I was crying. I wiped my face, took a deep breath and then turned toward him. There are moments in a man’s life where something so profound happens that the earth seems to suddenly stop spinning on its axis and all of creation is focused on one thing. As I looked back at Manfred and found him standing there silently shaking as he cried uncontrollably, my world came to such a standstill. No one and nothing mattered at this moment more than this beautiful man. I did not hesitate at all. I quickly moved the three steps between us and wrapped my arms around him. Manfred pushed his face into my shoulder and started crying harder, his voice muffled by my sweatshirt. I held him tightly as he stood there, his arms dangling and his body heaving with each sob. I started running my right hand up and down his back. I wanted to comfort this man as best I could, and I wanted him to know he was safe in my embrace. I was so concerned for Manfred that I barely noticed the intensified feeling of calmness and strength that shot through my body as we came together. It was similar to the sensation that had pulsed through me when I laid my hand on his shoulder earlier, but this time it was magnified greatly. I forced my mind not to analyze the feeling and take me away from being present for Manfred. I did, however, store the memory in order to dissect it later.
We stood there for a while as Manfred continued to allow his intense sadness to flow from his body. I became aware that this moment was pivotal in our friendship. It was obvious that some kind of transference of power was taking place. This beautiful man I held in my arms was allowing himself to be weak in my presence. The realization that I was supporting this man that always seemed so cool, collected, and strong made my heart swell with a feeling close to pride, but it was also something more profound. I believe the word to describe what I felt would be chivalry. I desired to not only comfort Manfred, but to also protect him. Protect him from what, I did not know, but I understood, instinctively, that holding him in my arms and taking care of his every need would give me the greatest pleasure of my life. As soon as this thought entered my mind my cock shot fully hard and my entire being opened to some sort of sixth sense. A distant memory of having this same sensation before came over me, but I also realized it was very different this time.
This new awareness allowed me to be present to things that went unnoticed to other mortals. I was instantly aware of the heartbeat of three people in the surrounding area. I could distinguish Martin’s heart beating stronger with each moment in the other room. John’s heartbeat was already healthy and I sensed joy from this man as he watched Martin recuperate quickly. I somehow knew that Martin was going to be fine. I knew it as well as I knew my own thoughts and desires. This connection to the people around me helped me to see them in new ways. This was most obvious in my awareness of Manfred’s heart. I could sense that the man in my arms was beginning to control his sadness and that my tight hold on him was offering a deep feeling of security. Manfred allowed his entire being to surrender to my strength and my unspoken promise of protection. I knew that, for the first time in his life, Manfred was letting his guard down and revealing some unknown vulnerability. I could also clearly feel that our embrace was turning the gorgeous Manfred on, as well. This awareness didn’t come from a sixth sense, though. It came from the hardness pressing against my equally stiff cock. All other heartbeats in my head disappeared as my own heart started pumping overtime due to the joy caused by this other man’s reaction to my arms around him. I wanted Manfred at that moment in the same way a person craves air after being underwater for a long time. Every cell of my body was so focused on the man in my arms and that it almost caused me to miss the two lips now pressing against my neck. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but then I felt the warm, moist lips leave my skin and then make contact again, just below my ear. I had stopped breathing, mainly because I could not believe Manfred was kissing me, and, secondly, because I was afraid a simple intake of air would make my cock spew. His lips left my neck again and then I felt them close around my earlobe. Manfred pulled slightly with his lips as his mouth sucked firmly. I had never known a sensation even close to what this simple movement caused within me. Manfred could have asked me to do anything in the world and I would have done it immediately.
Only the door to Martin’s bedroom opening suddenly could break the magic that was taking place in the hallway. As soon we heard the double doors swing open, Manfred and I pushed away from each other unwillingly, but also full of embarrassment. When my body no longer touched his, my mind was completely clear and I was brought back to the reality of the moment. I knew the same thing happened to Manfred. Our raging hard-ons would be the only evidence of our hallway embrace. My boner, however, disappeared almost immediately when I saw Martin standing in the hallway, fully dressed and looking very healthy. For a brief moment I thought I was seeing a ghost. I heard a gasp escape Manfred’s mouth.
“Gentlemen, I have had a miraculous recovery. I am very hungry and request both of you to join me downstairs for lunch. No questions, please, just a time for rejoicing, for good food, and maybe a little wine. Come along Anthony. You too, Manfred. I have not eaten for days and I am famished.” With that, Martin stepped between us and started down the hallway. As he passed me, he reached up and pushed my gaping mouth closed. He also winked at me in a way that insinuated a shared knowledge of some kind. I was too shocked to focus on anything except how fantastic Martin looked.
“But Martin, how did…” Manfred began to protest.
“Never mind about that, Manfred,” Martin said without turning around, “we should just be thankful for my full recovery. Should we not? I must tell you, though, I actually feel better than I have for many, many years. Come along, lunch is waiting.”
Manfred and I turned to stare at each other in disbelief. John stepped through the doorway and had a face that seemed to say, “Isn’t this wonderful.” We all three started down the hallway barely catching up with the energetic Martin, who was already halfway down the staircase.