Wearing Out The Flooring

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The air in the club was hot and humid, bitter with cigarettes and sweet with the sticky tang of the alcohol evaporating off the polished floor, the gaudy tables and the bare flesh everywhere.

Mark stood watching the dance floor, a drink, largely untouched, in his hand. He was a little above average height, slim and smoothly muscled from all the swimming he did. Dark hair and light eyes against flawless, tan skin, long legs and broad shoulders, he was handsome and he knew it. Other nights he would have been out on the floor, running his confident hands over some pretty girl’s body, occasionally flicking them, pretending it was an accident, over whatever slim fabric was covering the pussy he was trying to get into, maybe cupping a breast as they mimed the art of love, thrusting their hips against each other under the lights. Not tonight though, no not tonight. He had come tonight to find some girl to bury himself and his guilt in, and so stood paralysed, watching as boys paired off with gaudy girls, kissing and cupping each other before slinking off to the bathrooms or the exit.

Lost in his reverie, he was startled when he felt a hand rub his shoulder sending a sallow breath of revulsion along his spine. He spun quickly and was met with the slightly stupid face of one of the girls in his class at the college. He thought her name was Claire. She had short blonde hair, hanging just above her shoulders. Her face was very round- not fat, but there was not one straight line on her face: her brow curved into her cheeks, flushed with alcohol at the moment, which then flowed into her chin, sloping into her narrow neck. She had a sort of imbecilic prettiness: glazed blue eyes, fat red lips always open making her look constantly surprised (or on the brink of a mild orgasm). Her breasts were extremely large and firm, spreading out from her chest like unbalanced hills – they swayed not at all when she walked, taking her little steps with a stilt-like movement and swaying her wide hips. In these days of androgens, those breasts and her very feminine “child-bearing” hips made her stand out in the throng of ciphers in tight shirts and tighter jeans, cupping small, perfectly round asses and barely dimpling against small, high breasts with tiny nipples.

“Hey Claire.” She didn’t walk off, so he must have got it right. He bought her and himself another drink and they talked, Mark dividing his attention between her, the crowd in the club and the dance floor. She asked him where his friend David was, and he startled again, before muttering “We aren’t that close, he’s probably with his girlfriend.” She complimented him on some asinine remark he had made in one of their law classes and he realised she was chatting him up. Occasionally, she would rub against him, making it look like she was letting someone pass, but always giving the person passing far too much room. Her hand would brush his arm, lingering and appreciating the firm muscle there. Maybe she would give him what he needed. He imagined lying on top of this girl, her large breasts thrusting against his chest as his cock thrust into her cunt. He imagined those plump lips on his shaft, running over it and leaving a smear of red lipstick amongst the pubic hair against the base of his penis.

He started paying her more attention, occasionally staring at her breasts or her groin when he was sure she was looking, matching the strokes she gave his arm with ones of his own, touching her shoulder, tickling her side.

Things escalated until finally the two were outside the club, Claire leaning against the wall, one leg wrapped around Mark, pulling him to her, her hands encircling his neck. Mark was kissing her, his tongue in her mouth, her tongue meeting it – he could taste alcohol and mint. One of his hands cupped one breast through her top, the other fled under her skirt and rubbed hard against her panties. He was relieved to notice that his cock was swelling, not hard yet but getting there. There was a pleasing weight in his groin, not the heaviness he felt when aroused, when every nerve in his body felt focussed on the soft flesh of his cock and the pebbly skin of his balls, but he could feel the anticipation boiling in his testicles.

The girl moaned and reached for Mark’s cock. Her hand ran over the front of his trousers, getting him harder still, and she told him she lived about five minutes walk away. They headed for her place.

*** Last Week

When he thought about it at all, Mark realised it had all been because of the cold. His friend David had a girlfriend, Christine. Christine was a short, dark girl, beautiful and sensuous, great in bed (and plenty of other places), according to David. The two were in a serious Relationship, capital R. And with the arrogance of those in love, who find truth in Burt Bacharach songs and believe only they are truly happy, Christine and David set Mark up with Christine’s roommate, Jenny.

Mark and Jenny went out a few times, really had nothing in common, but liked each other and found each other attractive. They went to bed a few times, pleasing mamak escort David and Christine who read too much into it – Mark and Jenny were no couple, just an available pair of compatible genitalia. The four arranged to go camping, two days up in the hills, fishing, hiking, relaxing and taking a break from college.

It was all planned when Christine came down with a cold and infected Jenny. But everything was arranged, so David and Mark went anyway.

They drove up into the hills in David’s car, a battered Volkswagen golf whose initial colour was impossible to determine. They had only taken one tent, which was sitting in the boot along with a map, their clothes and walking boots, enough water to last two weeks (despite the fact they were only going to be there for two days, and fresh water would be plentiful) and food. Out of the golf’s powerful stereo system (it had cost David more than the car), blasted the White Stripes Elephant album.

They stopped beside a lake, the water crystalline, reflecting the pale blue of the sky and the pristine white of the few clouds with perfect clarity. They set up the tent, neither sure how to do it, David a little glad that Christine wasn’t there to observe his deficiency. Finally, entirely by luck, coincidence, and Mark finding a pole that he had dropped and thought lost in a bush, they got the tent up. They were dripping sweat in the humid afternoon, the air beneath the trees too still to clear the moisture from the lake. David’s light blonde hair was plastered to his beet-red face. His T-shirt clung to his chest.

“I’m going for a swim,” he said. “Are you coming?”

Mark said he would and they walked to the water’s edge. They took off their clothes, a little self-conscious and went into the water naked. They swam out to the middle of the lake, the cool water lapping against their hot muscles and soothing them. David dived under the surface and swam around, springing up behind Mark and ducking him under the water. As Mark shot down he felt David’s flaccid penis brush against his back. They played around in the water, splashing and ducking each other before swimming back to shore.

They waded out of the lake, the water dripping off them as they headed back to the tent. As they walked, Mark got an accidental look at David’s cock. It was small and soft, a little acorn dangling from a nest of blond pubic hair. Mark’s was longer, smooth and cylindrical and his greater endowment pleased him, though that pride made him feel slightly ashamed.

At the tent they dried off and got dressed, finally sitting down to a dinner of beans heated over a small spirit stove.

They talked until late, then went to bed. Mark lay awake, listening as David’s breathing evened out. A city boy, the sounds of the country kept Mark from sleep. David stirred, and Mark closed his eyes. David clambered out of his sleeping bag quietly and went to his pack. Mark opened his eyes again and watched. David was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. His muscled torso slid into them, and as he bent over his pack, his finely toned buttocks were outlined against the fabric. He turned slightly and Mark saw a large bulge in the front of the boxers. David got a piece of card from the pack and turned back, Mark slamming his eyes shut just in time to avoid notice. David lay down on top of his sleeping bag and drew the boxing shorts off. The small cock Mark had seen earlier had grown. It was still perfectly flaccid, but was now much longer, longer than Mark’s. David took it in his hand and began to stroke, running his hands along the underside of his soft dick from the balls to the head, then starting again. He held the piece of card up and Mark saw it was a photo of Christine wearing nothing but an embarrassed smile. Mark saw she shaved her cunt, the slender lips of her pussy, completely bare, and that her small breasts were capped with large, extremely dark nipples. She had one finger in her mouth, sucking it, the other hand curled out to the photographer, eternally beckoning him to her. He watched David’s cock as it kept swelling. Finally it stopped, rock hard, immense, thrusting out from his body. Mark estimated it was about nine inches long and really thick, far bigger than his own which he had felt so superior about earlier. As David continued to masturbate, Mark realised his own cock was erect and throbbing. It was only six inches long, and thinner than David’s was, though he had had no complaints from any girl.

Trying to be silent, Mark reached into his sleeping bag and circling his fingers around the base of his dick. He took one stroke and gave a low moan; instantly David froze, his spine stiffening. Slowly David looked over at Mark, who closed his eyes, again shamming sleep. Didn’t work this time though: “I know you’re awake,” said David.

***

The walk had taken longer than five minutes, petting each other all the way. Claire led him, walking in front holding his hand, dragging him along. Sometimes Mark would stop her, pulling her towards him ofise gelen escort and kissing her, rough and brutal. She responded with equal force, thrusting back at him, her hands on his supple ass, pulling him towards her. At one time he nearly lost it as they kissed in a shop doorway, his hands clawing at her large breasts through her thin top. He had reached out to rip down her skirt, his other hand going to his fly, ready to thrust into her on the street for the few hard strokes it would take to set him coming, getting it over with as soon as possible. She had stopped the hand at his fly and said strictly, sounding almost like a schoolmistress, “not here.” He waited, his cock throbbing in his jeans, eager now, and even the abrasion of it against his trousers was almost enough to send him over. Somehow, he made it to her place.

They paused at the entrance to her block of flats as she searched for her keys, then finding them she led him up to the third floor and opened that door too. She led him into the flat, which was too dark for him to see anything beyond an uncluttered hallway in some pale colour. She guided him through to her bedroom and sat him on the bed. It was the kind of bed he hated, the mattress near death and so soft it would sink all the way to the base board when he lay on top of her, the headboard loose so it would slam against the wall adding an unwanted percussion to their fucking.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” said Claire. She came towards Mark and he pulled her onto him. She sat side-saddle on his lap as they kissed, Mark relieved to find himself enjoying the sensation of her pillow-like lips against his. Against her big bottom she could feel the slim, hard evidence of his arousal, which echoed in flowing moisture in her pussy. Mark stopped kissing her for a moment to yank off her top, revealing a dull, off-white bra – big tits were fun, but when it came to lingerie, choice was somewhat limited. As he worked the clasp at the back, he started kissing her again, this time encouraging her tongue into his mouth. Claire played roughly in his mouth, her tongue thrusting far to the back of his throat and Mark nearly gagged. He took control, and started palpating her tongue with his. The clasp sprang free and Mark slipped it down, deliberately grazing the fabric over Claire’s nipples, provoking a high moan from her. She started undoing the buttons on his shirt, reaching down as he bent his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. For a brief instant she thought she felt his cock soften a little, but it quickly regained hardness as she took off his shirt and scraped her fingernails over his now naked back. Mark slipped his hand under Claire’s skirt and discovered her sopping underwear. He withdrew his hand and, making sure she could see what he was doing, took the hand that was covered in the juice of her pussy and licked it clean, an old trick of his, now done out of habit, like a good magician expending unnecessary showmanship on an undeserving crowd. He picked her up and rolled her onto the bed. Helping, she raised her hips for him and he removed her skirt, revealing a pair of white panties. He was too desperate for foreplay now; but so was she. The panties were soaked through, rendering them clear and wrapped tightly against the lips of her pussy, showing in perfect detail each one of the hairs stuck to the moist fabric. Mark reached out and tugged them off too, looking over her body in purely aesthetic appreciation as she looked up at him, watching his face to gauge his opinion. He looked at her pale body, the large breasts completely white save for her large, extravagantly pink nipples; her belly, not toned but slim nonetheless; her pussy large, covered in a shaggy morass of dark blonde hair, darker now that it was wet, curving between her legs, untrimmed.

“Let me see it,” she pleaded.

He obliged, slipping down first his trousers, revealing the bulge in his shorts, and then taking them down, showing his modest cock. As she watched, he stroked his moderately thick six inches slowly, running his hands over the veins bulging on his shaft, making it harder.

Claire gasped slightly in pleasure. She parted her legs and stretched both arms wide towards him, calling him and his cock to her. Now that it came time to perform this act, which before he had rushed towards whenever he could, he was reluctant, the memories of last weekend roiling through his mind, almost wilting his cock. With a montage of images alien to him he forced himself to stay hard. Slowly, hesitantly, he went.

***

Last Weekend

Mark opened his eyes and looked into David’s face, seeing he was amused. Mark smiled back, and apologised.

“For what?” David’s cock was as hard as ever, and he made no effort to conceal it. Mark’s gaze was drawn to it and David laughed. He didn’t put it away though. “You act like you’ve never seen another guy’s.” Mark said that he hadn’t and David was surprised. Mark clarified, “Well, I’ve seen guys’ in the showers, but they’re otele gelen escort never hard, and some pictures on the Internet, but that’s hardly the real thing.”

David laughed again, “What did you do growing up? When you were too young for the girls to even know what a cock was, let alone touch one?” Mark looked confused, and David explained.

“Me and my best friend would sometimes masturbate each other, when we spent the night at each other’s house, or sometimes when we were off alone somewhere isolated. One day, we each masturbated the other five times, but that’s youth for you.” Mark’s mouth was open, which set David laughing again.

“I’ll tell you, my friend gave a better hand job than some of the girls I’ve been with. One day we got curious about oral sex, and we were up in my bedroom about to try it, when Mom burst in. She wanted to Hoover and us to leave. If she’d come in five minutes later she’d have seen her son with a sixteen year old cock in his mouth.”

Mark laughed hollowly, too surprised by the revelation to find the image of Mrs. Jackson finding her son fellating his best friend funny.

“It wasn’t that we were gay, but our girlfriends weren’t ready – when you’ve got that little fleshy barrier to break, perhaps you think a little more carefully about who you break it with. So it was a little sexual pleasure without consequence – we didn’t do it as much once Lora was happy to give me a hand job, and she gave me my first blow job, come to think of it.”

Mark looked sceptical, and David said, “It’s as simple as this: the feeling of your flesh against someone else’s, the unexpected techniques they use, is always better than a quick wank with a picture of Pamela Anderson.”

And so saying he reached out and yanked down Mark’s sleeping bag, taking Mark’s cock, still fully erect, into his hand. He ran his hand down the shaft, then brought it back up and cupped it over the head of Mark’s cock. Mark gasped with a mixture of pleasure and distaste. David kept working, putting more effort into it than if he had just been jerking himself off. Mark’s disquiet faded with the waves of pleasure spreading up Mark’s spine from the hard nexus between his legs. To Mark this felt right and true.

David listened as Mark’s breaths deepened, and grew faster, slowing and lengthening his strokes in reply. Mark’s cock wasn’t large enough for David to use both hands on the shaft (a reflection on David’s large hands: Mark’s cock was no monster but more than large enough), so one hand worked the shaft smoothly and the other alternated between cupping and squeezing his balls and running over the sensitive head of Mark’s uncircumcised cock. Mark’s climax built. When David performed a similar function for Christine (either licking out her delicious pussy or fingering her to orgasm), his own desire grew, his hard cock would become almost unbearably aroused. Here, pleasuring Mark, his cock was as hard as at the beginning, but his arousal was mild, the controllable urge that signified a desire to feel orgasm rather than the burning need he felt with Christine to quench his fiery cock inside her.

Mark gave a choking gasp and a spray of thick white fluid shot from the tip of his cock and spattered lightly against the plastic fabric of the tent. He looked over and saw David’s cock, standing up from his body like the question mark to an enquiry a now feral Mark would answer. He leaned over David and took his cock in both hands, the immense length available to him allowing this. He worked the shaft roughly, squeezing it too hard and rubbing too fast, not able to judge the effect of his motions when he couldn’t feel them directly. He jerked David’s tight foreskin too roughly over the large head of his penis and David grunted in pain and finally told him, “Not so rough.”

Mark slowed down and began to stroke the cock more gently, his face level with it. He could almost feel it calling too him, and before he knew it, he had leaned over and taken the head in his mouth. David gave a shocked cry, Mark took it as a compliment, but really David was a little unnerved – there had been another reason he and his earlier friend hadn’t given each other oral pleasure: it had seemed like they would be crossing a line. But he had started this and had no idea how he could stop it.

Mark took more and more of the cock into his mouth- he didn’t manage much, had never done this before. Nevertheless, under the influence of his unskilled slurping and sucking, inside his hot, wet mouth, David began to respond. He tapped Mark on the shoulder and breathed out “Stop it! I’m going to come.” Mark didn’t stop. Even more urgently: “I’m going to come.” Mark sucked harder on his cock, and unable to stop himself, David came, shooting semen into Mark’s mouth.

Mark swallowed the salty, sweet most intimate fluid of his friend, licked his lips and lay back completely satisfied and not remotely unnerved by the act he had just performed. As he had sucked his best friend’s gargantuan cock, his own had swelled again. But it had been a long day, and the weight at his groin was balanced by a proportional heaviness of his eyelids. “That was great,” he told an ashen David, yawned and promptly drifted off into a shallow, relaxed sleep. David watched a smile appear on Mark’s sleeping face, wondering if he had meant the orgasm Mark had had, or the pleasure of having, taboo to David, another man’s cock in his mouth.

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