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()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
()()()()()()()()
>
> -=[ Postal Sex ]=-
>
> Nick, Nicholas on his UPS nametag but he preferred the
diminutive, had
> been delivering to my office since I started working there
two years
> earlier. His Mediterranean good looks seemed enhanced by
the standard
> brown uniform all UPS drivers wore. His dark hair
shimmered under the
> fluorescent lights of the office; that same dark hair grew
profusely
> on his powerful forearms, heightening the aura of
masculinity about
> him. His smile could melt the coldest heart. I always
brightened up
> when he came by my desk. At first, we would just nod
hello.
>
> One day, I had put up a huge computer printout depicting
the Starship
> Enterprise from the 60's TV series. Primitive by today's
graphics
> standards since it was done on a standard line printer,
utilizing
> overprinting and differing alphanumeric characters to
produce its
> effect, nevertheless it was an impressive sight, covering
about 16
> pages of computer paper once assembled. Nick stopped and
commented on
> it. "Hey, that's really neat!" The next day, I had a
printout of it
> ready for him as a surprise.
>
> From that day on, we were sort of friends. Not friends in
the sense
> of having deep conversations or anything, but buddies. He
managed to
> arrange his schedule and I mine so we could take a break
at about the
> same time daily for coffee, shooting the shit for 10 or 15
minutes.
>
> One day, we were talking about current events, in
particular, CAMP
> (California Against Marijuana Production) and the recent
big crop they
> had confiscated. "Shit," I said. "The stuff is expensive
enough as
> it is."
>
> "You have some around?", he asked, looking surreptitiously
about for
> anyone who might be listening.
>
> "Oh, sure. I usually have it around. It's the only drug
I use, and I
> like the results better than alcohol."
>
> "You know, I haven't had a toke for, oh, maybe five years,
certainly
> not since I got married." I was acutely aware of the
ring; it was
> probably the third or fourth thing I noticed about him the
first time
> I'd seen him. "I have to agree, it beats drinking."
>
> "You wanna stop by my place some evening and share some?"
>
> "Well, I dunno. That might be alright." He seemed to be
thinking.
> Suddenly, he perked up. "Hey, my wife's got choir
practice tomorrow
> night. How about then?"
>
> "OK by me," I said. "Right after work?"
>
> "That'd be perfect."
>
> I gave him written directions to my place the next day.
"I sometimes
> get delayed past normal quitting time if there are a lot
of pickups or
> traffic's bad or something. OK?"
>
> "OK. I didn't make any other plans for tonight," I said,
giving him a
> quick wink. And with that, a brief, troubled, quizzical
look clouded
> his face but quickly vanished with what I swore was a
mental shrug
> that meant he'd considered it and decided it meant
nothing.
>
> When I got home, I laid out on the end table a Hustler
magazine and
> covered it with a couple of Playboys. I also got out the
pipe and
> lighter and sat those nearby. I sat near the window,
watching the
> traffic on my street. About 15 minutes late, Nick's old
Chevy pickup
> swung into a parking spot about two doors up from my
place. He jumped
> out, still in his tidy uniform. When I greeted him at the
door, I
> noticed that the armpits of his shirt was darkened by
perspiration.
> Inviting him in, I motioned for him to take a seat and
offered him a
> drink.
>
> "Do you have any lemonade?", he asked. I did have the
mix, so I
> whipped some up. While I was in the kitchen, he had
picked up one of
> the Playboys. He took the glass from me and quickly
gulped half of it
> down. "Ah, man, that's good," deep satisfaction sounding
in his
> baritone. "I picked up quite a few packages right at the
last minute
> and had to unload them all in sort of a hurry to get
here." He took
> another quick gulp and sat the glass down. As I busied
myself with
> the pipe, he resumed thumbing through the magazine,
stopping at
> several of the pictures, and turning the magazine sideways
to properly
> orient the centerfold.
>
> I lit the pipe and took a deep draw off it. "Here you
go," I said,
> handing the pipe to him.
>
> "Thanks." He took a deep draw as well, and after holding
it in for a
> few seconds, struggling to keep from coughing, he lost his
battle.
> "Shit. I hate when I do that."
>
> Laughing a bit at his line, I said, "Go ahead and take
another hit."
>
> He did so and succeeded in holding the smoke in for
maximum effect.
> He handed the pipe back to me. While he slowly exhaled,
he grabbed
> the next magazine and started through it. The pipe passed
between us
> until it was smoked out, and I refilled it. "Feeling
anything?", I
> asked.
>
> "Oh yeah. As a matter of fact, I'm getting real stoned.
It must be
> because I haven't had any in so long." After about half
the second
> pipe was gone, he refused any more, so I finished it off
myself. I
> was fairly stoned by then, too. He picked up the Hustler,
chuckling
> to himself as he thumbed through it, looking at the
cartoons. "Shit,
> this magazine is sick, sick, sick." When he reached the
centerfold,
> he let out a low whistle and turned it for me to see.
"Nice, huh?" I
> nodded.
>
> When he came upon the picture feature with the male and
female couple,
> he studied them rather closely. All of the sudden he laid
the
> magazine aside, and standing up, reached his hand down
inside his
> trousers, adjusting himself. "Ow!" He fidgeted a couple
of seconds.
> "There. That's better." As he finished his adjustments
and sat back
> down, I got a brief glimpse of what made him
uncomfortable. "Fucking
> pot always makes me horny."
>
> He finished with the Hustler and, as he laid it down, he
looked at me
> as if to ask, "What now?" I said, "I have more magazines
if you'd be
> interested."
>
> "OK by me. I wouldn't mind looking at a few more."
>
> I went and grabbed about eight more magazines from a stash
in the back
> of the house. As I laid them on the end table, I pulled
over a chair
> so I could look at the same time. He grabbed an issue of
Cheri off
> the top of the stack. I prepared another pipe full of
grass. As he
> thumbed through the magazine, he stopped at several of the
photo
> spreads, viewing them for himself. As we smoked, if he
found a
> picture interesting, he held the magazine more at an angle
for me to
> have a better look. I nodded, occasionally I'd make an
approving
> grunt, but what really had my attention was his crotch.
He quite
> clearly was aroused, and, to top it off, a small wet spot
was forming
> on the dark brown fabric.
>
> Turning the last page in the magazine, he laid it aside
and reached
> for the Hustler laying on top of the pile. More of the
same action
> followed, but when he reached the picture feature with the
male and
> female couple, I stopped him. "Wow, this is a pretty hot
scene, huh?"
>
> He nodded. "Yeah, it sure is." He had been flipping the
pages in
> reverse order, and when he went back one more page, there
was a shot
> of the girl laying on her back. The man had his semi-hard
prick
> pulled through the fly of his jeans, the head of it nearly
brushing
> her lips. "Man," Nick sighed, "look at that. Lucky
fella."
>
> "You like blowjobs?"
>
> "They're the greatest, man. And look at her! She really
looks hungry
> for it, don't you think?"
>
> "Ever thought you'd like to pose for pictures like that?,"
I asked.
> "You've got the body for it."
>
> "You think so?"
>
> "Well, I'd say the guy in the magazine there is probably
more beefed
> up, but then he is getting paid to do these pictures, so
he probably
> works out to look his best."
>
> Nick bristled a little. "Hell! You call that muscles?
Those gym
> bodies aren't anything special. A man who works with his
body seems
> to attract women a lot faster than a Soloflex body."
>
> "What makes you say that?"
>
> "I hear it from women all the time. They see me around
their offices,
> or when I'm out playing sports, and they all the time are
trying to
> pick up on me."
>
> "Do you ever make it with them?"
>
> "Of course not!," Nick answered indigently. "I'm
married."
>
> "I know that," I responded soothingly. "I was just
curious. Anyway,
> I'm not sure what you mean about the difference between
work and
> gmms."
>
> "I guess they thik its more masculine and natural than a
gym body."
>
> "Likehow? Can you show me?"
>
> There was a barely perceptible time lag in our
conversation before he
> said, "Yeah, I guess so." He sat the magazine aside and
stood to face
> me. The stain on his uniform slacks had gotten larger,
and the
> trousers tented out. He slowly undid each button, an
almost sensual
> act, revealing a white t-shirt. The thick hair on his
chest darkened
> the pure white cotton. As the shirt came off and he
tossed it onto
> the chair, I caught the faint odor of a man who had been
perspiring.
> Looking nowhere in particular, Nick pulled the t-shirt
over his head
> and tossed it onto the chair with his shirt. He went into
a sort of
> flexing routine. He indeed had a nice body. He didn't
have the
> definition that a bodybuilder would have had, particularly
over his
> abdominal area, but you could tell his arms and chest were
powerful.
> The thick mat of hair virtually obscured the nipples on
his pectorals,
> but it thinned to a line running down his stomach to
disappear below
> the waist of his pants.
>
> I started to speak and found my mouth was very dry. I
quickly sipped
> some Diet Coke and said, "Yeah, I can see the difference
all right."
> I paused, unsure whether to proceed, but not for long.
"Does the same
> sort of thing happen with the legs?"
>
> "Yep," he said. "I'd show you, but I've got a small
problem so I'd
> better not."
>
> "Aw, don't worry about that," I said, acknowledging that I
knew what
> he was talking about. "The pot and those magazines will
do it to
> anybody. I know. Its just us guys here, after all."
>
> He continued to flex his biceps, but he seemed distracted.
"What the
> hell," I heard him mutter then. His hand went for the
belt and
> loosened it. He unzipped the fly, once again slowly and
erotically,
> it seemed, but maybe I was lost in the fscination of it.
He unhooked
> the fastener and slipped them down to his ankles. He
started to flex
> his leg muscles then. "Can you see the difference?", he
asked.
>
> I nodded. "Uh huh." His legs were dark with the thick
hair of
> Mediterranean men; his calves were tight, his thighs
massive. But
> what fascinated me more than anything was the tight white
Fruit of the
> Loom briefs that hugged his butt behind, and struggled to
hold his
> raging hardon in the front. His cock was pointing to his
left and
> upward, and the pink color of the head of it was clear
because the
> fabric had a somewhat transparent effect from the oozing
precum. His
> testicles nestled snugly in the pouch of his briefs.
Nothing captures
> better the erotic essence of man than seeing him in a pair
of briefs
> for me.
>
> The air seemed thick; I seemed to be having trouble
breathing. I
> couldn't take my eyes from his basket. A couple of
minutes had
> passed. He spoke then, seemingly measuring his words,
almost as if he
> himself wasn't sure what he was about to say. "Would you,
uh,
> perhaps, like to, you know, see a bit more?" I could only
nod.
>
> Before he gave me the view I hungered for, he reached down
and picked
> another magazine, a Club, off the pile, and stood thumbing
through it.
> He stopped briefly at a couple of pictures. I saw his
dick jerk often
> but irregularly. After he'd thumbed all the way through
it, he went
> back to the centerfold and laid it out on the table so he
could see it
> where he stood. It was of a buxom redhead sitting in a
chaise lounge,
> her legs pulled up so that you could see her asshole, and
her fingers
> spreading wide her pussy. Her tongue licked er lips as
she looked off
> camera at whatever. I imagined he thought she was looking
over at him
> and it made my heart pound to think what fantasies might
be running
> through his mind.
>
> Having arranged all this, he straightened up, looked
quickly around
> the room as if he expected someone to be lurking in the
corners,
> watching, then pushed his shorts down to his knees. As he
> straightened up, I was treated to a magnificent sight, one
of which I
> never tire, a hard cock. His was a beauty. It was 6.5" of
sturdy
> manhood. It had a slight upward curve from the base to
the
> circumcised head. Beneath it were two large testicles,
but they could
> not swing freely as his scrotum had obviously been
crinkling up with
> the sexual tension. His cock jumped and jerked in the
air. As I
> watched, a big drop of precum oozed from the slit and ran
down the
> underside of the shaft onto his ballsack. Another gob
followed it
> quickly, this time dripping towards the floor in a long,
pearly
> string. Shuffling a little, he turned and bent forward at
the waist,
> showing me his powerful buttocks. As he bent forward, the
asscrack
> spread apart, and I could see his brownish pink hole
amongst the kinky
> hairs. "Nice body, buddy," I complimented him.
>
> Suddenly he straightened up, turned, and reached for his
shorts,
> pulling them up over his genitals. "Sorry, man," he said.
"I don't
> know what came over me. Fucking pot I guess."
>
> Before he could do anything more, I reached for his
bulging briefs and
> touched him. "I could help you with that, you know."
>
> For a moment, as I caressed him through the cotton, I
sensed his
> weakened resolve, a moment of evaluation of what I was
offering. But
> he tensed again. "Hey, I don't think so. I'm married,
remember?"
> Still, he made no move to stop me.
>
> "I remember," I said, half to myself. Nick was standing;
I was still
> sitting, and I was mesmerized by the vision in front of
me.
> Everything else was shut out but the sight of a fine male
body in
> these white cotton briefs, bulging obscenely, wet with his
excitement.
> The warmth from his balls against my palm was like fire.
The moment
> seemed timeless. I don't know, maybe two or three minutes
passed and
> I quickly glanced up. Nick had his eyes closed. His face
seemed
> contorted with a weird mix of passion and guilt.
>
> I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to get closer. I
brought my
> face forward and inhaled. The damp cotton still bore the
perfume of
> the detergent his wife had laundered with, the slightly
heady aroma of
> male perspiration mingled with it. I had to get closer.
I leaned
> towards him, and my forehead brushed the hard shaft. The
heat there
> went straight to my brain. I pressed against it. I felt
it stiffen,
> pressing back, hold for a second, and relax, as much as
any stiff cock
> can. It twitched again.
>
> I reached for the waistband. Nick jumped back slightly.
"No way,
> man. Don't go any further."
>
> "All right," I said. My right hand was once again
caressing him,
> though. He seemed willing to let me go this far. Once
again, I
> pressed into him with my face. I hungered so much for a
taste of his
> flesh; I trembled with desire for him. My left hand
wandered up his
> stomach, the crinkly hair tickling my palm, and it came to
rest on his
> left pectoral musce. I squeezed it slightly. I felt his
erect nipple
> against my palm, and I located it with my fingertips,
tweaking it and
> rubbing it.
>
> "Oh, man, that feels nice." I wasn't sure what Nick was
referring to,
> the tit play or my face in his crotch, but then I decided
it was
> probably both. My other hand traveled upwards, too.
Again, Nick
> stepped back, but not so suddenly this time. "Larry? OK
if I sit
> down?"
>
> "Yeah," I replied. "Make yourself comfortable."
>
> As he plopped into the chair, he said, "That's kinda hard
under the
> circumstances," and he briefly flashed me that brilliant
smile. As
> soon as he was settled, he grabbed another magazine, an
issue of
> "Gent". I slipped to my knees and again started to make
love to him.
> My hands rested lightly on his chest, fingertips flicking
lightly
> across the upright nipples. As I nuzzled his nuts, he
scooted his
> hips more forward, and I sniffed around his crotch below
his tight
> sack. Pushing my face forward, I rubbed up over his balls
and slowly
> up the shaft, my face getting wet with the precum he oozed
so
> profusely. He squirmed as I repeated the motion time and
time again.
> He went through two more magazines. He had begun to
breath heavily
> through his mouth, and small groans and moans gave
evidence that he
> was turned on. Without a word, he was urging me on.
>
> He sat the current magazine aside and grabbed an older,
beat up copy
> of "D-Cup". I shortened my strokes a bit, occasionally
passing over
> his balls, but concentrating on the upper parts of his
dickshaft.
> "Oh, yeee-ahhh", he moaned. I mewled lowly. "You're
hungry for it,
> ain't ya?" he chided. "Well, sorry, cocksucker. It's
spoken for, but
> you sure treat it real nice. Real nice." I glanced up,
and saw him
> looking back at me from under the magazine he held. He
was watching
> me at work, servicing him. He gave a brief nod of
approval and looked
> back up at the porn.
>
> After a moment, he laid the magazine aside. It was open
to a
> three-page centerfold, spread out. An older blonde who
had huge
> breasts was pictured, her eyes closed, lips parted--both
sets. Her
> pussy lips were shaved. One hand squeezed a milky drop
from her ample
> teat. The other hand pulled open her asscrack, showing
off the tight
> pink hole. I felt Nick put his hands on either side of my
head,
> holding me in place as he gyrated his hips seductively,
lewdly,
> sliding his rockhard dick across my face slowly and
deliberately. It
> had become even more rigid and swollen, thicker, within
the last
> minute or so. My lips parted hungrily and I could taste
his
> secretions, mansweet.
>
> A low groan formed in his throat and rose in quick
crescendo to a
> lion's roar. Quite suddenly, he arched his back, lifting
his hips up
> off the seat. Holding my head firmly to the flyfront of
his briefs,
> his steely penis spasmed and jerked repeatedly, and my
nostrils flared
> with the musky smell from the copious bolts of semen it
shot out into
> his briefs. When at last his orgasm subsided, he relaxed a
bit,
> settling back into his seat, hugging my head to his
crotch, my cheek
> resting in the pool of cum soaking the cotton. His
breathing slowly
> returned to normal, and in a couple of minutes he pushed
me away.
>
> "Look at the mess you made!", he scolded me. He lifted
his waistband
> and looked. "Jesus. And just how am I going to explain
this to my
> wife?" As he spoke, he scooped up some of the spunk
pooling in his
> pubic hair with two fingers and splattered my face with
it. "That's
> what you wanted, isn't it?" I nodded and, cat-like,
washed off my
> face with hand and tongue.
>
> "Now get me a towel and washcloth so I can clean this shit
up." I
> stood to do as he asked. He followed me back to the
bathroom, his
> UPS-brown trousers pulled up but open. Closing the door
behind him, I
> left him to his toilet.
>
> When he came out, he looked pretty normal. Even acting as
if
> everything were perfectly normal, he said, "Well, we'll
see you at the
> office, huh?"
>
> "OK, Nick. Thanks."
>
> "Yeah, well...." And out he went.
>
> This is how it always ends. But I keep hoping that maybe
someday he
> won't stop me when I try to pull his underwear down.
>
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
()()()()()()()()
> Remember - You can get into more FREE gay stories and
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