Tall Tale, Part 7

[Reeza]

Tall Tale
Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6

As promised: sex - round one.

TALL TALE - Part 7
by Reeza

So, tell me, Dan . . . why did I give up smoking again? There’s nothing like the first hit on a Camel. Yeah, alright . . . back to the story.

So, like I was saying, I was never treated like that in my life, or at least I never put up with it. Of course I never met anyone like this guy. Paul. He could get away with it. But, the weird thing is I wasn’t really afraid of him . . . I don’t think. I was feeling something, though. I wanted to go along with it, but I needed to pretend that I didn’t want to. I think that’s how it was. It was so fucked up . . .

So he gave me these rules: I couldn’t touch myself, and I couldn’t come until he said so. Well, I thought the second rule would be easier to follow because I had just blown my load less than thirty minutes before that. But he knew what he was doing. There was a reason for those rules.

I was leaning against the wall, naked as a jaybird, with eight inches of hard wood sticking out of me. He was standing right in front of me, hands on his hips, still wearing his white boxer briefs. His huge dick was packed into the pouch, but it didn’t look like he was getting hard. I started to wonder what he was getting out of all this. He seemed to be enjoying it in his own way, but I couldn’t help but feel . . . inadequate. Why wasn’t he getting hard, you know?

"Greg . . . are you looking at my underwear?" He was still being stern with me. "Do you wanna buy some for yourself so you don’t have to run around bare assed? Or are you looking at my dick?"

Shit. Another question I didn’t know how to answer. I tried. "I didn’t get my laundry done . . ."

"I don’t care about your laundry, Greg! It’s okay to look at my dick. You already saw it."

Oh, thank God! "Yes, Paul. I am . . . I like . . .it’s nice." Fuck!

"‘Nice.’ Thanks. I like it too." Sarcastic. "Do you want me to take these off, Greg? You’re naked . . . I should be naked, right? Why don’t you ask me to take them off, Greg?"

"Uh, yeah. I would like that. Would you please take them off, Paul?"

"No, Greg."

"No? I thought . . ."

"You’re gonna take them off me, Greg."

"Um . . . okay. How would you like me to . . ."

"Get over here."

I peeled myself off the wall and moved closer to him. My hands were shaking and my knees felt weak. It felt good to be closer to the heat coming off his massive body. And his scent. I never paid much attention to the way a guy smelled before, unless they smelled bad, but he smelled like . . . well . . . he smelled like he tasted. I couldn’t help but remember that now, as I was looking at the thick swell of muscle on his chest, the glistening blond hairs against the smooth tanned skin. And those big, beautiful nipples. Mmh!

"You want another taste of me, don’t you, Greg?"

"Yes. Yes, Paul!"

"Well! That was a firm ‘yes.’ Okay . . . since you’re behaving yourself, you can taste my pecs again. I’ll give you one minute to do what you want. But remember the rules, Greg!"

"I remember, Paul."

A little smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Okay . . . go ahead."

I didn’t hesitate. I planted my hands on his ribs and dove into his chest like a starving baby. I opened my mouth as wide as it would go and fastened myself to one of the broad pectoral muscles, dragging my tongue over the nipple again and again, feeling it rise up against his hot flesh. I felt the fine hairs against my tongue, my lips, my nose. I indulged myself with noisy, sloppy sounds. No shame. I made my way across the crevasse between his pecs where the hair was thicker and his scent was stronger. I buried my nose in it and took a deep breath. I could feel him chuckle quietly. I moved to the other side and continued to feast on him. I applied more suction to this nipple. I tested my teeth against the raised edges of the areola, feeling them bump up onto the plateau, but stopping short of pinching the fleshy point. I twirled my tongue around it, trying to get all the flavor out. And it was good. It was very good.

"Alright, alright, Greg! Time’s up. Come up for air. Have you been locked in a cage or something? When was the last time you ate? Holy, crap! I didn’t think you had that in you."

I reluctantly took my hands off his body and stepped back. I licked my lips, trying to prolong the experience. My dick was still bobbing in front of me. I remembered the rules. I made a silent commitment to them. I looked up at him with dog’s eyes, waiting for another treat.

He took his hands off his hips and wiped them across his chest, cleaning up some of my mess. He was smiling like he couldn’t help himself. He wiped his hands on the absorbent cotton stretched across his ass, then crossed his big arms under his pectoral shelf. I took note of his sinewy forearms again, twitching and hairy. "Okay, Greg. You have work to do. Get these briefs off me, and don’t be too quick about it." He broadened his stance, giving me room to work around and between his great golden thighs.

I wasn’t sure about how to begin this task. I looked at the delta of hair at the base of his abdomen and thought about slipping my fingers under the waistband there. Was the bulge of his crotch getting bigger? I couldn’t tell. I considered approaching him from the rear, but instinctively I knew that I needed to ask. "Can I touch you, Paul? May I touch you? Paul."

He beamed at me. "Listen to you! What a good boy! You know what I like, don’t you?" Like he was talking to a dog. But I liked it. "Yes, you can touch me, Greg. Whatever you need to do to get these things off me. And take your time."

Still in front of him, I bent forward and carefully placed my hands on either side of his cotton covered ass. My face was close to his abs and my hair brushed against his crossed forearms. I felt the hard roundness of his glutes. They were amazing. I ran my hands down the curves, feeling their surprising warmth. I cupped the halves in my outspread fingers, briefly, measuring their mass, then moved back up and ran my index fingers along the waistband from the back toward the front. I looked down at his thighs and settled on a plan. I knelt down in front of him.

I have always been drawn to the inner thighs of men. Even my own. There’s something about that gentle curve of muscle that slopes down from the groin to the inside of the knee. It’s an intimate spot. Not much traffic, usually, so the hair grows a little longer there. On Paul, as on the best of men, veins spread out there like rivers carrying blood to the south. I surveyed the landscape of his heavily muscled legs. I knew where to begin. I moved my open right hand toward the inside of his right thigh, but I didn’t touch it. I brought it just close enough to brush against that crop of hair and slowly swept down toward his knee. He tensed the muscles of his thigh, involuntarily I think. He shifted a little and I felt a pulse of heat against my face. I was pleasing him. I liked that.

I put both hands on either side of his thigh and slid them up, against the hair’s grain, to the hem of his boxer briefs. I slipped my thumbs under the fabric, pressed them against my forefingers and pulled downward. The briefs resisted, so it took some effort until I felt them slide down one side of his waist. I moved my hands to his other thigh, lightly petted the hair there, and pulled at the hem on that side. His pubic hair was now exposed, and the rich scent of Paul filled the air around me. I reached behind him and dragged the back of the waist band over the peaks of his glutes. My fingers brushed against more of the same fine hair that covered most of his body. My hands returned to the hems of his briefs which were still stretched snugly around his thick quads. I tugged on each side again until his thick cock and ponderous balls were on full display. God! I couldn’t tell if it was completely flaccid or a little plump. It was so damned big there was no standard to judge it by. I became aware of my own less impressive member throbbing away. I repeated the rules in my head.

"You’re almost there, Greg. Don’t get distracted. And remember the rules."

"I remember, Paul." I pulled my eyes away from his crotch. His briefs were near his knees now, but his legs were too far apart to allow them to slip down any further. I placed my hand on one calf and felt the ball of muscle, attempted to press my fingers into its hardness but failed. I put my other hand on the opposite leg and caressed both of them, up and down. I felt them flex as he subtly shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. I let my hands come to a stop on each calf, looked up at him towering over me, and gently pressed inward, as a request. He understood. He shifted his stance, bringing his feet close together. His briefs slid down a bit, but I caught them and guided them down to the tops of his feet. I looked up at his face again, requesting, squeezing his left calf in my hand. He lifted that foot, angling his knee past my right shoulder. I gently brushed my cheek against his inner thigh as I slipped the briefs over his foot. We repeated each gesture with his other leg, and his briefs were off. Mission accomplished, I tossed them aside. He settled back into a wider stance and put his hands on his hips again. He looked pleased.

"Well done, Greg! You were better at that than I expected. For that, you deserve another taste of something. But I can’t let you run wild again." Stern. Or just pretending. "Tell you what . . . I’ll let you have one taste of each leg . . . but just one . . . so choose carefully. And don’t forget the rules. Do you understand, Greg?"

"Yes, Paul."

"Okay . . . go ahead."

I already knew what I wanted. I put my left hand on the back of his thigh and bent my head down between his legs. My scalp felt the warm humidity of his genitals. My nose grazed across his inner thigh in that place where the hair grew a little longer. I enjoyed the aroma, taking my time, making sure my tongue was wet. I opened my mouth, not too much, and pressed my lips against him, then my tongue. I paused, felt the heat of his flesh, then slowly licked, just a couple of inches. Just enough. The muscle under his skin quivered and tightened. I withdrew and looked at the wet spot, at the hair displaced by my mouth. Then I turned my attention to the other side. I grazed, inhaled his aroma, pressed my mouth on the flesh and traced a short trail through the patch of hair with my wet tongue. I caught a few hairs between my lips and tugged at them gently as I pulled away. Another pulse of body heat washed over me. I was starting to think I had a talent for this. Paul was silent, but he took a deeper breath than usual and let it out slowly. His eyes were closed.

"Paul?"

"Yes, Greg."

"May I ask you a question, Paul?"

"Yes."

"Am I doing something wrong?"

He opened his eyes. He paused. "Why would you ask that?"

"You’re not getting hard, Paul. Am I . . . do you . . . like me? Why aren’t you getting hard?"

A longer pause. "You’re not ready for that yet, Greg."

"But . . . am I doing something wrong? I want to make you hard, Paul."

"I’m controlling it, Greg. I have a lot of control, remember? It’s too soon for that." A little impatient with me.

"But I am ready, Paul. I want to see it hard." I stood up.

"You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Greg." His voice lower. Rumbling.

I was confused. Disappointed. I shouldn’t have pushed it, but I said it again. "I wanna see it, Paul."

A dark cloud passed over his face. He raised his voice. "This isn’t about what you want, Greg! I thought you were learning that!" His hands went to my armpits and before I knew it my feet left the floor again. He held me high, tightly, and looked up at me with anger and frustration. He slammed my back against the wall, hard enough to knock the breath out of me, and held me there. "What about what I want, Greg?! Have you thought about that?" Yelling!

I searched his face for a clue. I thought he was getting what he wanted: he was in control . . . I did what he asked me to . . . I followed the rules! Why was he angry again?

His lips were pressed tightly together as his head moved from side to side. He must have been disappointed. He looked me over, up and down, like he didn’t know what to do with me anymore.

Then he lowered his head and licked my stomach! His big firm tongue took a diagonal journey across my flat belly, roughly, right over my navel. My heart lurched and my abs tightened. He did it again, going at it from the other direction, plastering the dark hair against my skin. His stubbled cheek sideswiped my still erect penis. A wave of panic went through me. What about the rules? Did the rules still apply? He did it again!

"Paul! Paul!" It was all I could say. I put my hands on his head, hoping to stop him.

He paused and snarled at me. "What? Do you think you’re the only one who likes this? I told you I like the way men taste! Did you think I wouldn’t get a taste of you, Greg?" Strange anger!

He let me slide down the wall a bit. The sweat on my back made me slippery. He started lapping at my pecs, pressing his tongue into me, hot and wet. The head of my dick was rubbing against the hair in the middle of his chest. Oh! Oh! "Paul! The rules! What about the rules?!"

That stopped him. "The rules still apply, Greg! Don’t touch yourself! Don’t come until I say it’s time!" He was serious.

"I know, Paul! I know! But you’re making it really hard for me!"

"I never said it would be easy, Greg! If it was easy, we wouldn’t need the rules. You better not come!"

"Then you better stop what you’re doing, Paul!" Bold. Like an order. Big mistake!

He slid me all the way down the wall, briefly setting me on the floor. He moved his hands down to my waist and picked me up again, away from the wall, and held me at arms length. So effortless! His thumbs pressed into my hip bones. "What’s the matter, Greg? You having trouble controlling yourself?" Sarcastic. "I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to come again so soon? What’s happening, Greg?"

"I had no idea . . ."

"That’s right, Greg! You had no fucking clue! You’re fucking clueless." He shook me as he said this. "I’m not going to make this easy for you, Greg, but you’re going to control yourself. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, Paul! But what did I do wrong? I don’t understand! What did I do?"

"You didn’t think about what I wanted, Greg! Only about yourself! ‘I wanna see it, Paul!’" He was mocking me now. "You’re gonna see it, Greg! Trust me. But not until I’m ready!"

"Fine! That’s fine, Paul! Let’s slow things down then! I don’t mind!"

"You don’t mind, huh? Who said anything about slowing things down? Again, it’s all about you, isn’t it, Greg?"

I didn’t know what the fuck he wanted anymore. I gave up. I had nothing more to say. I just dangled there.

He seemed to calm down a bit, along with my dick, but his sarcasm remained. "Let me give you what you want, Greg. It’s all about you!" He brought me closer to his body so his biceps were bearing my entire weight. The muscles bulged forward with glorious definition, veins popping out along the peaks. I couldn’t help but look. So much for giving my pecker a rest.

"You like those big arms, don’t you Greg? You like to see them holding you up in the air, no problem at all . . ."

I didn’t need to answer. He knew.

"Why don’t you touch them, Greg? You’ve been wanting to feel them, but you haven’t had a chance yet. Go ahead. Here’s your chance."

My hands didn’t move. I was too confused.

"Touch them, Greg!" An order.

I reached forward and put my fingers on the balls of muscle. They were almost hot to the touch, hard as marble, but covered with smooth skin. I ran my fingers over them lightly, tracing the pulsing veins. Powerful. There was no denying it . . . this was what I liked. My dick nodded its approval.

"And, let’s see, you really like my chest, don’t you, Greg?" He lifted me higher until my hard shaft was pointed at his right pectoral. He flexed his chest by pressing on my aching hips. I thought, "I hope he doesn’t . . ." But he did. He touched the head of my cock to his nipple, lightly, just kissing it. The tip of his nipple violated my slit. I felt little hairs tease my most sensitive skin. I moaned.

"Remember the rules, Greg."

"I remember, Paul."

"I’m not going to make this easy for you, Greg."

"I can see that, Paul." Tears formed in my eyes.

He continued to give my throbbing member a slow tour of his incredible torso. As he did this, he talked about something completely different . . . slowly and quietly . . . while he focused on what he was doing to my dick.

"Do you know what you taste like, Greg?"

I didn’t even try to answer.

"You taste like a construction worker . . . just like I expected. Like steel . . . brick . . . sweat . . . different kinds of wood. They get into your pores and give you that taste. It’s good. I like it. I am an epicure . . . do you know what that means? It means I have refined tastes. I’ve tasted a lot of men, Greg. I know what I’m talking about. I am an epicure of men, and you’re my favorite flavor: construction worker. You didn’t know that, did you, Greg? Well, how could you know that?"

He dragged my prick through the hair on his chest all the way to the other nipple. He let that one fuck my slit. The tears ran down my cheeks.

"You’re a beautiful man, Greg. Really. You’ve got a great body, a handsome face, the whole package. At least on the outside. But you don’t like to hear that, do you? You’re not comfortable with your good looks. And that makes you even more attractive."

He took my stiff dick down the ladder of his abdominal muscles. Slowly. Bump . . .bump . . . bump. It was an excruciatingly pleasurable journey.

"When I came in here and saw you I thought, ‘I would do him. I will do him.’ And I would have, Greg. No fuss . . . no conflict . . . no tension. Just two guys having fun. A lot of fun. But it had to get all fucked up in here, didn’t it?"

Back up the abdominal ladder. Bump . . . bump . . . bump. I was starting to leave little tracks of pre-come on his skin. My heart was pounding. The tour stopped when my reddened helmet got stuck under the shelf of his pecs. He moved me away from his body. My dick sprang up and threw a tiny droplet onto his chin. He felt it . . . and glared at me.

"Don’t break the rules, Greg. It’s not time yet."

I rasped. "I know, Paul."

He was still holding me up, tirelessly. "Now I’m going to taste you again . . . because you’re that good, Greg. But you have to control yourself. Understand?" He looked at my body with hungry eyes.

"Yes, Paul . . . but . . ." My voice was quivering. I had to ask. I wanted to know. If it was going to happen, I wanted to know now.

"You have a question, Greg? Go ahead."

I hesitated. "Ah . . . are you going to . . . eat me?" Stupid question. I know. But it sure seemed that way.

He paused . . . a long pause . . . then he answered. "What kind of a sick fuck do you think I am, Greg?" Not angry. More like he knew I would ask. A twinkle in his eye. "Unless that’s a euphemism . . ." A little joke. He was fucking with me on so many levels.

He licked my shoulder gently. Then my bicep. Just one long drag of his tongue up my arm. My chest. Each nipple, a few times over. He licked like a kitten. I put my hands on his head . . . he didn’t object. He moved his lips and nose down my stomach, so tense now that the muscles stood out. He detoured around my painful erection to the front of my thighs. Sloppy wet kisses. He lifted me higher. The tip of his tongue flicked at my balls . . . once . . . twice . . . three times. He stopped, retreated a bit, moved me into position and said . . .

"It’s time, Greg."

He swallowed me whole. My swollen knob went right to the back of his throat as he buried his nose in my pubic hair. He pressed me against his face. His tongue teased the top of my scrotum and cradled the bottom of my shaft. And I came. Bellowing. Bucking. Oh, man did I come! Spasm after spasm, shooting right into his gullet. He closed his lips tightly over the base of my cock and drew all the air out of his mouth to maximize the suction. He held me there until I was spent, then slowly pulled the tight circle of his lips up the shaft to the base of the helmet. He paused to swirl his tongue around the slit a few times, efficiently removing the last of my come, and he popped me out of his mouth. A string of saliva stretched from his lower lip to the head of my weary prick, then broke.

Paul licked his lips. "Mmm! That was good. Delicious!"

He pressed my sweaty body against the wall and slid me down to the floor. I was so exhausted I just crumpled, half-dazed. He wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and looked down at me with a satisfied smile.

"I’m guessing you enjoyed that, Greg."

He inhaled deeply and stretched his huge arms, first forward and then to the sides, and expelled his hot breath.

"Now have a little rest. You’re gonna need it."

*****

To be continued . . . Tall Tale Part 8

P.S. - In case you’re wondering . . . Yes, Paul is kind of fucked up. And Greg obviously has issues. But they both have redeeming qualities, as well. It’s all shades of gray in my world.

And, no . . . the sex isn’t over yet. ~ Reeza

[rairf]

"You’re almost there, Greg. Don’t get distracted. And remember the rules."

Reeza... you must be some kind of evil genius...

"He took my stiff dick down the ladder of his abdominal muscles. Slowly. Bump . . .bump . . . bump. It was an excruciatingly pleasurable journey." ~ and this my friend, is the only time I've ever been jealous over not having a cock....

More please. I'll follow the rules....

[cesarvillavi]

I just love this story. This is my kind of story. Reeza you've done an excellent work. Congratulations!!!

[Lothian]

Originally Posted by Reeza

?I wanna see it, Paul!?" He was mocking me now. "You?re gonna see it, Greg! Trust me. But not until I?m ready!"

I think we're all with Greg. We wanna see it. When you're ready, clearly.

[picmeup]

you must have read my message in the general forum. I love being picked up and carried...what is going to happen when they leave there? His clothes are wripped to shreds. My fantasy would be to have Paul carry him out of the bar over his shoulder buck naked to show others his property. Getting hard thinking about it!!!

[rairf]

Please sir.... I'll follow the rules this time....

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by rairf

Please sir.... I'll follow the rules this time....

You never follow the rules, rairf. That's what I love about you. Don't go changin'!

And, picmeup, I'm glad to hear that you're getting hard thinking about the possibilities. Keep it up! I think 50% of the fun should come from wondering what might happen, and 50% from what does happen. You can change those percentages if you must, as long as you're enjoying yourself.

I'm working on the next part. As always, thanks for the comments and support.