A few weeks later I was pretty much well beyond the contagious stage of mono and starting to recover my strength, but still weakened after moderately strenuous activity. So when some friends went on a camping trip, I went along just for the night-before sleepover party, intending to come home the next day when they left for the camping. Our host had invited a few others to stay over for the party, too, including a guy named Wes, who arrived on a motorcycle.
I could not take my eyes off Wes, from the moment he walked in the door and took off his helmet. He had a rugged, square face with deep-set eyes, a smiling personality, and just enough facial hair to make me want to fly off the roof. Later, as the sleeping arrangements got settled, the sofa bed in the living room, Wes, and I remained unclaimed. (Mental note to thank host.)
Wes and I opened the sofa bed and undressed to our undershorts, Wes revealing a gorgeous hairy chest. We laid down, chatting lightly in the dark, and I could feel the warmth of his gorgeous hairy chest barely one I-wanna-rub-my-face-all-over-you inch away. I forget if our bare shoulders were (pant, pant) touching but I want to think so.
I asked Wes if he’d like a back rub, deciding this was worth the risk of tiring myself out. I really wanted to ask if I could spend the night on his gorgeous hairy chest. He agreed (back rub, remember) and before I could mentally pump my fist, he whipped off his undershorts and rolled over onto his stomach. I got up and felt my way up astride his bubble ass (like buttah!), leaned forward, and began to work on his shoulders.
I was getting very turned on very fast, my dick becoming thick and heavy as it rested comfortably atop the crack of Wes’ butt. I’m sure that being mine, my dick was pre-cumming like a flood in an irrigation ditch (I suppose that’s a slight exaggeration). I did my best massage for about fifteen minutes after which I leaned forward and laid down against his warm back, explaining I wanted to “recapture some of the energy” (but not explaining also to bury my nose in his hair).
Wes rolled over onto his back, but just as I was getting into stroking and exploring that gorgeous hairy chest and nipples with my fingers and tongue, he said it was my turn for a massage. Well, OK, if you insist.
Wes rolled me onto my stomach and started in with efficient technique that had a deep, relaxing effect in my back but required very little motion on his part. He didn’t stop with my back but kept moving down my body, finding wonderful, unexpected pressure points on my buttocks, legs, and feet. He knew how to manage his strength (massage can be tiring if done with a careless energy).
Then he rolled me back over onto my back, my legs in the air, and wriggled his arms down under my thighs and in one smooth motion, lifted my hips up, my cock warm and wet in his mouth. He held me like that for some time, sucking and mouthing my cock, then lowered me and swung himself around on top of me for sixty-nine, his cock bumping encouragingly against my chin. I slobbered my mouth around his fleshy cockhead, delighting in the pleasure I was giving this man. We both came sometime along the way, and I fell asleep next to the gorgeous hairy chest.
I don’t remember anything about the next morning other than I was dying to get a ride back to DC on Wes’ motorcycle but (darn!) he had only one helmet. I got his phone number as my consolation prize.
I called him a couple of times, and once invited him to lunch with my gay group at work so he could do some networking for possible jobs. But apart from job openings, it seemed that he was not interested in me further, like we had never met.
For years I occasionally saw Wes at the DC Eagle, walking around shirtless with that gorgeous hairy chest. But all we ever said was hi and we didn’t play again. Pity.