6 comments/ 10660 views/ 5 favorites New Guy By: Erotymous There was something beguiling about him. Tall, handsome, well groomed; you know he ticked the usual boxes so that's why I was so attracted to him as soon as he strutted across the third floor on that otherwise grim Monday morning. Well, I say 'strutted' but there was nothing boastful about him. In fact, his self-assurance took me by surprise when I soon found out that he's a mute. I'm a shy girl. Always have been, probably always will be. I can't help but yearn for a kindred spirit and, when every so often a quiet, mild mannered guy approaches my work station, I find myself blushing like I always have done. There's something about a man of few words, a man who keeps himself to himself and just gets on with his life in a calm and confident way. Yes okay, I admit that before the day was over I had allowed myself to fall in love with him. I can't say I was surprised when I was given instructions to show Martin around. My boss seemed to think that my soft and gentle personality was just the sort of calming approach that would help somebody settle in around here. Well, maybe. That and I did know how to sign. "Gemma, this is Martin. (Just how soulful those eyes seemed at first glance.) He'll be helping us out around here, mostly down in the basement with all the old boxes, but he'll surface every now and then to help you girls out." Winking and nudging me playfully. "Just let me know if he causes too much distraction." The wholesome smile that spread across Martin's face was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Was he looking straight at me? I wasn't sure but for a split second I felt like the only woman in the world. "N-nice to-to meet you." I barely managed to disguise my stammer as I offered him my hand. His grip was firm and manly. I grinned shyly before forcing myself to relax. "Follow me". He barely glanced at my lips before signing 'okay'. The basement really did need a good old sorting out. I later found out that Martin was just the man for the job. Unafraid of dirty toil he was very grateful for the job. Fiercely independent, he resented anyone drawing attention to his disability and he was soon proving just how special he really was. It was so dark down there and the half light was hardly illuminating the confined spaces. Without really knowing it I found myself talking in barely more than a whisper as I attempted a light-hearted tone. "You'll certainly have your work cut out down here. As you can see, it's all very dark and mysterious." Was I flirting? I hesitated as he beckoned me to come closer, his eyes looking straight at me. This was happening way too quickly. As I began to look visibly nervous, I suddenly realised how poor the visibility was and almost leapt up to him to sign underneath the dusty lantern. As I looked up into his dark chocolaty eyes I was struck by how intensely he was studying my features. I was wearing my thin brown hair in a pony tail that day as it had been very humid recently. My blouse was clinging to me already, a bead of sweat was working its way down my cleavage and I could feel that familiar discomfort underneath my skirt as my thighs rubbed together. I didn't feel particularly attractive in that instant but he just stared at me and ever so slowly the warmest smile emerged across his kindly face. It was as if he knew just what I was thinking, as if he was reassuring me that there was nothing to be afraid of. Perhaps this was just me. After all, it was his first day. But he was so calm and collected. Without irony I was genuinely lost for words in his presence. I mouthed that I was going back upstairs and if he needed any help, just to let me know. I felt flustered and foolish as I signed goodbye. He remained smiling and signed thank you before turning round to get to work. Our tea breaks weren't coordinated and I felt a pang of regret as I saw him walk past me and my friends in the canteen while I was having my lunch. He was on his own but he didn't look lonely. Was it intentional that he sat at the far end of the room but within eyeshot of me? My friends started talking about him and asked whether I should introduce them. I saw him reading, looking quite studious and I uttered something like 'let's give it a few days until he gets used to the place'. Now, this may seem rude to you but I could read the apprehension on my friends' faces as they contemplated what could be a rather awkward conversation through an interpreter. I suppose it was my call to decline but they seemed to understand all the same. Just how much I wonder, as I spent that long hour trying to catch his eye in the most subtle way I could. He looked so beautiful yet so engrossed in his book. His dark brown hair was tufty but not quite wild. His black t-shirt was displaying much dusty evidence of a man at work, his arms folded handsomely on his lap, his muscles on show but not intimidating. His legs were partially crossed and acted as a book rest, from which his trademark intense glare barely moved. Beguiling. If only he knew what I was thinking... As long as that lunch hour was, the rest of the day followed suit. I couldn't help myself from glancing at the stairs leading down to the basement whenever I was sure that no-one was looking. Towards the end of the day I was almost caught when I looked up to find my boss looking straight at me. "Anything the matter, Gemma?" "No, Mr Wright, can I help you at all?" "Well, erm, yes I'm hoping you could. You see I've noticed how you must have made quite an impression on young Martin today." He was almost winking in his avuncular manner. I froze but willed myself to remain calm. "You should see him down there. I tell you, they must be putting something in the cornflakes these days! It's like he's barely stopped to catch his breath. I'd say there's about a month's worth of junk down there. The rate he's going...we'll be ready to redecorate the entire basement in a fortnight!" He leaned in a little closer so as not to be overheard. "The most impressive first day's work I've seen since I took you on, Gemma." My finger leapt to my mouth and I nibbled unconsciously as if I had just been given a commendation from the headmaster. Mr Wright knew how hard I worked and seemed to delight in my awkward reaction. His smile was comforting. "Say, are you still okay to do your overtime tonight?" "Erm, yes, of course." I was slightly confused but this turned to curiosity as I detected a stifled smirk on his face. "That's good. Martin has volunteered to work another couple of hours. Can you believe it? I-I-I was stunned! I mean, he looked so genuine as he passed me the note. Almost pleading, if you will. I thought I should ask you, seeing as it's your turn down in the pit tonight. By the looks of it down there I'd say put your feet up and have a lie down, ha ha!" Looking back I wonder how quick my response must have seemed to him. "Wow, he sounds impressive! B-but that's okay. We can keep each other company down there." Mr Wright looked at me slyly but then thought better of it. He trusted me dearly and we had a good working relationship. He couldn't resist the wink though. "Sounds like a date. I'll tell Wonderboy the good news." I held my breath as he turned to leave before almost collapsing back into my chair. I bit my lip as I looked cautiously around me. Just where was this leading? I stifled a giggle and tried to focus on the last half hour before my basement shift. "Hello," I called as I found myself in an almost pitch black basement. "Martin?" The lantern had been removed and just as I noticed this I detected a faint glimmer of light in one of those mysterious alcoves. I fumbled my way towards it. I couldn't suppress the excitement within me. It felt like a dream and I just wanted it to be so. As I peered round the stacks I stifled a gasp at the topless figure before me. He lowered his water bottle and slowly turned round, a smug look beaming out from his exquisite features. He signed 'you've caught me' and I bit my lip in anticipation. As he confidently walked up to me I stared intently at his wet lips. "I've been hearing some impressive things about you." My eyes rolled up and down his naked torso and he laughed heartily. Sweat was glistening from his pecs and, before I could stop myself, my hands stretched out to feel him. "Are we alone?" He signed. "Yes" I breathed. At this last but paltry attempt to compose myself, he reached out to hold my head and pressed his wet lips against mine. I uttered a soft murmur of approval and that was all the assent he needed to know how much I wanted him. His fingers were exploring the back of my neck as he kissed me with a passionate intensity. After what seemed like an age they soon slipped down to my shoulders and he carefully pulled back to look at me. No words needed to be said. Not tonight. My hands leapt up to his hair and we suddenly found ourselves entwined in a passionate embrace. As he lowered his hands down my sides and clenched my buttocks, I jumped up into him, wrapping my legs around his waist. I could feel his bulging penis surging underneath me, feeling so strong that I could almost balance on it! Once again he pulled back to look into my eyes and all he would have seen was the intoxicating aroma of sweet surrender. He lowered me onto the ground and with swift dexterity began undoing my satin blouse. He made short work of unclasping my lacy bra and soon started fondling my milky white breasts. Now it was his turn to surrender as he pressed his face into my cleavage and held me tightly. I ran my hand up and down the back of his head and sighed pleasurably into the darkness. Once more he pulled back and looked up into my gasping face. He had placed his hand in between my thighs and was working his way up. The way his fingers explored my damp knickers made me incredibly excited. I wanted to giggle with glee but I was gasping for air! He saw my confusion and opted for safety as he slid deftly past me to turn on a dusty old fan. It was clean enough for some dirty fun. As he returned to my side he made a motion to slip down before me but I placed a finger up to his lips and mouthed 'allow me'. He took a step back and as he was pressed up against the wall, I slid down to my knees and skilfully began to unclasp his belt. Before long his trousers and briefs were about his ankles and his penis stood erect, pulsating with excitement at what awaited it. I simpered up at him coquettishly before opening my mouth to clasp my lips around his shaft. I lost myself in a fit of passion and the only thing in my mind was of pleasing this beguiling man. I could feel his hands pressing hard upon my head and took delight in his thrusting movements as I opened as wide as I could. My hands gripped his buttocks and his silent murmurs were a joy to hear. As his hands slid down to my cheeks I took this as a signal for 'not yet' and I came out just in time. He was now fully exposed while I lay down at his feet awaiting the next scene. After a few mutual gasps and exchanging a cheeky grin, he made to lie down beside me and began caressing my legs as a craftsman varnishes his precious wood. He bent over to kiss and lick my stomach, leaving the faintest trace of saliva across my heaving body. He soon placed himself in between my legs and began doing the same to my inner thighs. Delicately he peeled off my nylon knickers and mellowed dreamily at what he saw. My aroma was intoxicating for him. This much was evident. I lowered my head back onto the dusty floor as he let out his saliva and ever so gently slipped his tongue out and onto my waiting lips. My cry of joy was genuine and I soon felt my garden spring to life; a waterfall gushing down into a pool of fierce energy. He can't have known just how this felt; the first time anyone had ever made me feel this way. I closed my eyes and felt tears appearing as I found myself convulsing under his manly support of my buttocks. I was now fully exposed and I had never felt more alive. As the world tossed and turned around me I opened my eyes and there he was. Those dark brown eyes imprinting themselves onto my very soul. I wanted him so badly and I held his beautiful face so tightly as he kissed me once again. This time when he pulled away I knew what I was going to feel next. I rose up my head to see him with his penis in his hand, teasingly rubbing his glans up and down my vagina. We locked eyes and at that moment we both knew exactly what we wanted. We trusted each other. With a swift jerk he sprawled across me and thrust himself deep inside. I was in heaven. He wasn't unnecessarily quick nor was he infuriatingly insensitive. He was just right. We rolled ourselves into one another in a timeless act which shall live forever. His hands moved to all the right places and it was all I could do to encourage him in this perfect act of love-making. As the ground swelled around me, I could contain my orgasm no longer as it erupted within me. We had timed it just right and no sooner had I lost control of my body before he exploded inside me, time after time. Magic. Time stood still as we lay as lovers do, entwined in our embrace. I kissed his head as he nuzzled up to my neck and kissed me with what energy he had left. "I love you" I said. He rose from his slumber and kissed me once more on the lips. No words need be said. New Guy in my Life I have a new guy in my life! Finally, I've met him and is he ever special. I've been divorced for 31 years, now. I've waited all this time for this perfect guy to show up. He's been like a dream come true. I met him on the internet, of all places. I had told my daughter I was going to start searching the web and signup on some of these dating websites. There's a million of them out there. Some are free. Some, you have to pay for. Some, are even on installment plans. You know, $12.95 a month for three months. Then they back it up with a guarantee. If you don't find someone in 90 days, you can have the next three months for free. I signed up for the free sights. Hey, I'm cheap. I was just shopping around looking to see who was out there. At first, I didn't enter a picture. Guys would write back and say, "Hey, what do you look like? I don't talk to people without a picture." So, I fell into the trap of the on-line dating websites. I go from one to another. Enter my zip code. Up pops the same guys; website, after website, after website. They are all old, fat, balding, boring, motorcycle-riding, "gentlemen". All I want is a normal, funny, employed, guy who likes to play poker. Not so hard. Right? Wrong! My daughter had already told me I could go ahead and try this new way to meet people. She told me to be careful and she also told me not to date anyone old. "Eew, Mom. No wrinkles, no grey hair. No old men." I always do what my daughter asks me to do. We are very close and share everything. I mean that in a very clean sense of the phrase. Like a normal mother and daughter share things. I'm not putting down other mothers and daughters. I'm just trying to say we get along well together. She's a Leo and I'm a Scorpio. We like each other. As I said before, I met him on the internet. There was his picture right in front of me and I fell in love. I'll never forget the day I first saw that photo. December 20, 2008. I even remember the time on the clock when the email announced, "You have mail." It was 8:21 a.m. on Saturday and I was having my morning coffee browsing all those on-line dating sites. There were more emails and more pictures to follow after that, even a full frontal nudity one. Oh my God! I was definitely in love with Christopher George. All I kept saying, "He's a keeper." By Christmas day, I couldn't stand it any longer and I had to hold him in my arms. I needed to touch him and to smell him. Weird thing about your sense of smell; its important to girls to have guys that smell good. It does something to our brains. Makes us be nice back to them if it's a pleasant smell. I decided to pack up the car and head to that small town in New Jersey to meet him face to face, finally. Most of the time, I'm lost on some road in New Jersey. Have been there several times and have never been the same way twice. I'm pathetic at reading road signs and there are so many of them in New Jersey, its easy for me to do. I don't know how I do it, but, I seem to manage every single time to go a different way. I think signing along with the radio way too loud must distract my brain. Of course, there are all those conversations I have with myself along the way, too, that might be the reason for my distraction of the road signs. Who knows, but I'm the Queen of Lost. One year, my daughter gave me a Trac Phone, so I could call to say I was lost and could she help me find the right road. This year's Christmas present was a Garmin. Now, that is the ultimate gift to give to someone like me. I don't know if anyone can imagine how many times on the way from East of the River to the Jersey shore that bitch can say, "Recalculating!" I even know how to make her say it in a foreign language. I'm getting quite good at pushing her buttons. Some times I change the voice over to the man, but he keeps saying, "Recalculating", too, but its much deeper and sounds like he really means it when he says it. It doesn't matter, I just keep driving and eventually I arrive at my destination. Nobody knows I was lost, except me. When I get lost, I drive like a bat out of hell to make up the lost miles. Jersey cops haven't caught me, yet. I finally arrive at the shore to meet Christopher. I've already said his name a million times. I've practiced and practiced saying it until it roles off my tongue, like it's a natural expression. Christopher George. I like it! It's growing on me. The front door opens and I give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek. He is really cute. His hair is kind of thin and his nose is like a button. He doesn't wear glasses. I guess he doesn't need them to read, yet. His eyes are dark. He is a lot shorter than I had imagined, but I thought he will probably fit right in with my family. We are all short. My family is going to love him, too. Tall people aren't accepted too well in my family. I remember when my mother met my ex-husband for the first time. She said to him, "Sit down. You make me nervous up there." I'm absolutely certain that Christopher is going to fit right in being as short as he is. He's not a midget. I'm not sure if I can say that word any more. I always want to be politically correct, so I apologize if I offended anyone. But, the guy IS short. My daughter gets her wish, too. He's not old. In fact, he's quite young. Christopher is a lot younger than me. I hope she approves of our relationship. We spent the 11 days after Christmas in each others company. We really got to know one another. We would sit together on the couch. Snuggled up in a blanket, we would fall asleep, him in my arms—just the two of us. I love him already. We ate together and I found out what his favorite foods are. He's not a fancy eater, quite frankly, he likes to eat the same thing all the time. Kind of boring and maybe as time goes by, I can introduce him to some better grub. At least cooking won't be a problem for me right now. I had to return to work after New Year's Day, so I kissed him goodbye and said I would see him again soon. There are pictures that still come to me via email and I seem to fall more in love with him as the days go by. Valentine's Day is just around the corner and I've been shopping for him. I want to send just the right package to him and I hope he likes it when it arrives. I'm pretty sure he likes to read, so I'm sending him a book. It's a Valentine's Day book all about love and being close to one another. At the end of the book it says, "I love you", because I really do. I hope he enjoys it. This will be our first Valentine's Day together, even thou we are apart. This is just the first of many things to come for the two of us. I'm so happy, I'm crying. I know those two things don't go together, but Christopher George is my new grandson, and I love him already. Soon, I will look forward to his first St. Patrick's Day. I'll tell him how his family came from Ireland along time ago. New Guy in Town They're always looking at my ass. Those big bodybuilders at the gym where I work out. It's flattering of course, but a little unnerving too. Like those two guys today, standing behind me over by the bench press weights -- I could see them in the mirror. They were talking and cracking jokes, and I'm sure they were eying my body from behind. That big hairy Italian even gave a whistle, and the two of them chuckled, he and the black guy with the huge biceps. Do they want me? Do they want to use my smooth, compact body as a sex toy? The thought excites me. But I don't want to go there. Not now. Not with them. After my shower, in the locker room, I look at myself, naked, in the mirror. There's good reason why they want me. My hairless, stocky body is a tight little ball of muscle that any hulking furball might well enjoy playing with. I turn to look at the muscular globes of my buttocks, my smooth thighs thick below them, my broad back rippling above. I turn the other way and crook my arm to bulge my bicep, then the other way to ripple the tricep on the back, while my baby-smooth pecs pump up and down. I'm hot! My thick 7" cock starts to rise in excitement as I pose for myself. The door from the gym slams open and I hear the big dudes coming in from the weight room. I turn and busy myself in my open locker, not wanting anybody to notice my self admiration. "Let's hit the showers," says the Italian. "Nah, I'm gonna shower at home. I think maybe my honey's waitin' for me, so...." "I get it. You're hopin' for a nice piece of ass as a reward for a good workout!" "Got that right," leered Biceps. "Hey, maybe you'll get one too!" He nodded toward me and they chuckled. "Later, Vito!" Biceps threw the farewell over his huge shoulder as he punched the exit door open. Vito headed for the shower, emitting a low whistle under his breath as he passed behind my naked body. In the showers, he picked a spot where we could see each other, and as he lathered up his hirsute bulk, he kept glancing at me. It felt good, but made me nervous too, and I tried not to catch his eye. I pulled up my tighty-whiteys to hide my growing erection, but I couldn't help but see that he was fully erect, and staring straight at me. Caressing his soapy, furry muscles, sloshing soap around his jutting rod and bulging bag of balls. There was no mistaking his desire now. I still didn't meet his eyes, and fumbled with my things as I finished dressing and stuffed everything into my duffel bag. As I passed the gym office on my way out, Coach said 'Hi' and got up from his desk. Coach was the gym manager, a big blond lummox with a winning grin and the look of a corn-fed bull right off the farm. He came to his office door as I passed it. "You doin' OK, kid?" he asked. He was wearing a sleeveless net top, and blond hair poked through the mesh over his chest, along with his nips. "Sure, no prob, Coach." "Looks like you're makin' some good progress," he smiled, pinching my upper arm in a friendly gesture. "Thanks for noticing, Coach." "Listen, Billy... just wanna mention that you might should be careful around some of these guys. Have any of them been givin' you any trouble?" "No. No problems," I stammered, distracted by his hairy blond pec almost at eye level. "You know that guy Vito, he's had kind of a rough past. Got in some trouble a while back. Was in court for sexual assault. Looks like he raped some kid over in Little Italy. Almost did time, but his uncle got the charges dropped." My jaw dropped, barely missing his nipple, which looked stiffer than before. "So if anybody gives you any trouble, you let me know, OK?" "Sure thing, Coach." "You wanna relax for a while back in the back office here? Have a power cocktail, put your feet up?" His sky blue eyes looked straight at me, engulfing me, as his farmboy smile broadened. I felt dizzy. "I... well... Sir... really nice of y... I mean, yes... but... not today. Thanks." He sensed my confusion, and moved immediately to put me at ease. He seemed to be instinctively aware of the extreme power his smile and handsome face had over people, and was eager to soften the impact. "Hey, no pressure, Billy. So you'll take a rain check on that? Sure. Any time, kid. Door's open... to you anyhow." He squeezed my tricep and winked. I left. I know I will give my body to one of these men someday. I've always wanted that, and it will happen. But I've never done anything. Well, not since that one time in high school. That was in a locker room too. The football star. And I was boys' cheerleading captain. We were alone in the gym after both our squads had practiced. "Hey Billy, wanna wrestle?" "Wrestle? You mean you and me? Have a wrestling match? Like right here?" "Sure. Back on the mats in the wrestlers' training room. Wanna?" "Why not?" I smiled, flabbergasted but pleased. Back by the mats, I was surprised when he quickly slipped off his gym trunks, and started to pull his t-shirt over his head. "Hey, what are you...?" "What's wrong," he queried. "Don't you wanna wrestle naked? C'mon, try it. More fun that way," he said, without any trace of irony in his voice. I assented, not really understanding why, and pulled off my cheerleader togs. A few minutes into the match I understood why. I understood that he wanted to take my ass. He kept moving his body into rear-entry positions when he pinned me, and I saw that his cock was fully erect. Was I being raped? Well, not really. I could choose to pull out of his holds at any moment. I could simply stand up and call off the informal match, if I wanted to. I was in a position either to let him into my virgin ass, or to refuse him. I let him in. Our eyes never met. When he had spent himself inside me, he got up without a word and headed for the showers. I lay there for a while, listening to him showering a few rooms away, thinking. I got up only after I heard him leave the locker room. After that I could never look right into his eyes when we'd meet in the school hallways. But when we'd work out with the girls' cheerleading squad, I felt a special bond with their captain, who was his girlfriend. I knew she and I had shared an experience. That experience leaves a glowing memory in my mind. Pleasant, but confusing. I know I want to have that experience again. Not with him, of course. It has to be... who? * * * * * * * * The municipal swimming pool where I work was deserted at the moment. Later on there would be a few moms with toddlers coming in to the kiddie pool, and some lap swimmers would come in to use the Olympic lanes after work. But no one had arrived yet, so after setting the chlorine levels and performing some other basic maintenance, I had a few moments to myself. Feeling puckishly mischievous, I slipped off my speedo and dove into the cool water naked. I loved the feel of he water rippling around my nudity, caressing my muscles, my genitals floating free in the waves in front of my crotch. I swam several laps and got lost in my thoughts. Horace the old janitor came through the bleachers with his hand broom, and I assumed a treading-water position so he wouldn't see my smooth buttocks bobbing out of the water behind me. It was too late. "You better get some clothes on, boy!" he called, before heading off toward the front office to sweep. "Kids! Sheesh!" I bounded out of the pool at the other end and swiftly drew my swimsuit up over my rounded popo, and tucked away the floppy parts into the front. And not a minute too soon, as Mrs. O'Brien came through the turnstile with her kids just a few minutes later. I signed them in and got the floaties out of the back closet for the kids. As they were waddling off toward the kiddie pool, I heard a commotion back by the entrance. Investigating, I found a bearded man in a trench coat and horn-rimmed glasses trying to enter through the exit turnstile. "Excuse me, sir, that's the way out," I explained. "But you should suit up first, in the locker room. Then I'll check you in to the pool. Do you have a membership card." "Excusing of me, so sorry," he apologized awkwardly. "I am card not. What you are say?" "The locker room," I say extra loud, as though it will help him understand my English better if I turn up the volume. "Change into your bathing suit in the locker room. Then come in through the other turnstile." As though he does not hear me, he vaults his big frame over the turnstile in an agile hop that belies his apparent awkwardness, and heads toward the pool. "You can't go over there in your street clothes, sir!" I run after him. "Such pool fine!" he says with satisfaction, standing on the edge, taking off his trench coat and placing it over his arm. "Amerika!" he smiles with satisfaction, and his cheery smile, peeking out of the ball of fur that is his whole head, brightens the entire room. He stood several inches taller than me, but it was hard to make out anything about his build under his rumpled and ill-fitting shirt and pants. "Sir," I try again to explain, "you change into your suit in the locker room, and then come in here." "I sorry, sir," he says, as though noticing me for the first time, "What you are say?" As he walks toward me, he trips on the cleaning net, and his bulky body falls against mine, sending us both plunging into the pool. Suddenly we are in a slo-mo underwater dance. His big frame goes spread-eagled, and I instinctively clutch him from underneath. A momentary embrace is our reflex as we recover ourselves and swim to the edge. His glasses are at the bottom of the pool and I can now see a pair of coal-black, Slavic eyes, intense but friendly, enveloping me. "I so sorry," he laughs, and his infectious laughter invades me—we burst into gales of laughter together. "I Sandro," he continues. "Sandro of Makedonia." "Hello Sandro. I'm Billy. Billy of Springfield. Nice to meet you. Very nice." * * * * * * Diving to the bottom to retrieve Sandro's glasses, I feel his gaze on my backside, but not aggressively. On the contrary, his gaze is ingenuous and kindly. When I splash back up to the surface, his smile blossoms, it fills the room til it is bursting with radiance! * * * * * * Assigning Horace to cover for me at the desk, I take Sandro back to the locker room to get his wet clothes off him. As the layers of cloth come off his frame, I stand gaping, transfixed by the magnificence unfolding before me. The baggy clothes, it turns out, are his brother's, as the airline lost his baggage on his way over from the old country a few days ago, and he is staying with his sister and her husband for the time being. Underneath the borrowed clothes is a solid build, stocky without being short, immensely broad-chested, and it is covered with the same curly black hair that frames his friendly eyes, snub nose, and smiling lips. He looks like one of those garden topiaries -- hedges, shaped in the form of people, animals, or objects -- beginning to bloom, every inch covered evenly with a lusty growth of vegetation. Sandro senses my admiration and does not seem to mind. In fact, he seems to feel mutual admiration for my smooth musculature, and as he looks at me, he is standing there naked, his substantial manhood is lustily peeking out of his bushy crotch and making its way toward pointing at me. Tentatively, but with boldness, he touches my smooth chest and runs his fingers down my flat belly. "Your body like sportman statue of old Atheney," he marvels. "A wondrous smooth. I never see so smooth, so beauty." I respond by running my fingers through the fur on his chest, and in a few seconds our lips meet in a deep, sloppy kiss. He envelops me in his furry arms and presses my smooth muscles to his hairy ones, and I respond by opening my arms to him. Our tongues are already having sex. Time stops. Then starts again, abruptly. Horace's voice, moving toward the locker room. "Are ya decent?" Sandro and I separate in a flash. "You'll have to cover for me at the desk, Horace. For the rest of the afternoon. I'm taking Mr. Sandro to get some dry clothes." I dress quickly and stuff Sandro's wet clothes into my duffel, and his hairy muscles into an orange Springfield-Recreation-Department worker's suit. "Where we go, Billy?" "My place, Sandro. C'mon." * * * * * * * When our naked bodies descend, after what seems like an age, onto my bed, time stops again. Or rather, it goes into delicious, languid slo-mo. Sliding into Sandro's arms is like slipping into a pool of room-temperature water. I luxuriate in the warmth his body transmits to mine. My limbs relax in his strong embrace, but our lips are anything but relaxed as they eagerly kiss, our tongues intertwine, slurp at each other, trade places in my mouth and then his. I am home. Sandro eagerly kisses every part of my face, and then moves down to my neck. The ball of fur that is his entire head tickles deliciously, and I emit a throaty, sexy laugh, embracing his hairy noggin with my smooth, muscular arms. He moves down my chest, moving more slowly now, just as eager, but languid, softly flicking his tongue all over my baby-smooth skin, which seems to delight him as much as his fur delights me. His eyes meet mine as his tongue finds my nipple, and I roll my head back, hands clasped behind my head, and give myself to his lips. Down, down he goes -- it tickles again when his tongue lovingly invades my belly button. My body contracts as I laugh, a move which puts my legs over his shoulders. Placing his paws on the backs of my thighs, he goes down on my cock, swallowing all seven inches at once, making my body contract again, my legs embrace his fuzzy head. Down to my balls he licks, and takes them into his mouth, his eyes meeting mine once again. I run my fingers through the curly locks cradled in my crotch, enjoying the fuzzy feeling. Our eyes are having sex now. "You will finishing?" "Hunh?" "Will come sperma?" "No way, big guy! Not yet!" I rise to my knees and enfold my beary guy in my arms. "It's your turn, now... or rather, my turn!" I push him onto his back, barely breaking our kiss, and begin my own lips' progress in the exploration, the pleasuring, of every inch of his bearish form. Nibbling his beard and furry pecs, pushing aside the hair to find his nipple and pleasure it, catching it between one lip and a tooth to administer a gentle bite, an action which sends him into writhing, moaning delight. "Bozhe -- Bozhe -- Bozhe" he whimpers, whatever that means. I move on down his writhing body, and am stunned at what I find. I haven't seen many hard-ons in my life, but I can't imagine any man having a penis this large. It is a couple of inches longer than my own sturdy manhood, and just as thick -- a healthy fistfull. Or mouthfull, but I am apprehensive. I can't imagine swallowing that whole thing. Also, it looks different from what I expect. Instead of the cockhead I am used to seeing, looking like a Nazi helmet from an old war movie, the skin of the sides extends all the way to the tip, bulging a bit just before it, and ending in a crinkly little opening that looks like it leads inside. So this is an uncircumcised cock! Like a diner about to try an exotic delicacy, I touch the mysterious tip with my tongue -- my bear's body arches and he moans. I run my tongue around it, and he arches again, wrapping his hairy thighs around my body. Whimpering with pleasure, he reaches down and takes it by the base -- the bulge near the tip starts to peek out, a cockhead peeking at me with its single eye, winking. Now I understand what to do: I take the shaft in my own fist and pull the skin down, letting the glans crawl further out, and now I let my tongue do the rest. I swirl my wet tongue around the cockhead and slip it under the fold of skin. Sandro writhes and moans, holding me tight with this thighs. I want to take the whole thing into my mouth, but am afraid to, so I lick up and down the shaft, and occupy myself with nibbling the hair on his balls, then swallowing his balls, swirling my tongue around them inside my mouth. He is bucking and lurching by now, I can hardly stay on him, so lustily he bucks. I must have his manhood in my mouth, as much of it as I can get in anyhow, so back up the tower I climb with my tongue, and encircle the glans once again with my lips. Down on it, a few inches -- his haunches squirm in a circling motion, as though spiraling into me with a hand drill. A few more inches, I feel the tip of his cock near the back of my throat. I wet my lips and renew their embrace of his thick shaft. A little further, just a few inches more to go. Moaning, he arches back and tightens the grasp of his thighs around my head, placing his paws gently on the back of my head, running his fingers through my yellow curls, nudging his meat gently but inexorably further into my throat. I almost gag, but something in my throat suddenly releases, and bingo -- he's all the way in. My lips are kissing his bushy crotch with his entire hard penis holstered between them. His cockhead is kissing my larynx from inside. I start to move rhythmically on it, and his haunches buck up into my mouth in sync, his strong hands helping with gentle pushing on the back of my head. His cock seems to swell even bigger as his balls pull up tight under it, my lower lip feels the tube distending on the underside of his rod, feels something flowing through it, and a half-second later, his juices explode into the the back of my throat straight from his cockhead. My own youthful, virginal (until now) cock needs no touching: it erupts, no hands, with my own juices, spurting into the hair on the backs of his thighs, and onto the part of his crotch under the testicles. Sandro shouts something I don't understand as his arms and legs clutch my head and upper body, and as his cock spurts into my hungry mouth again, and again, and again, and again.... I am home. Our kiss is delicious with our conmingled sperm -- I've licked mine off his legs, mixing it with what's left of his in my mouth, and we kiss long and sloppy. After what seems like several weeks, but was probably about a half-hour, Sandro sits bolt upright. "My clothes I can dry? Yes?" "Don't worry, you can put on something of mine." "But sister my... She say I must to apartment find...." "Sandro... I think you just found one...." "?" "You're home, Sandro." Did the lights go up right then, or did Sandro just smile? "I home." * * * * * * ** * * A week later, back at the gym: Vito snarled. "So you ducked out on me, kid. You didn't give Vito what he wanted the other day. Whatsa matter, kid, think you can turn me down?" "What you are saying for my friend?" Sandro stepped between Billy and Vito. "Not good, Mr. Showing-Off." Sandro towered over the scene, his elbows crooked so that his fuzzy upper arms looked like they had swallowed melons. Cracking his hairy knuckles. Vito looked into his black, Slavic eyes and quailed. Silently he turned and padded off toward the showers without a word. "Y'know it's too bad he didn't do time after all," offered Biceps. "A year or two as some thug's bitch would have taught him a good lesson." Biceps cracked his own knuckles, Coach grunted and scratched his nuts, we all watched Vito's waggling buttocks recede toward the showers. It's beginning to look like the guys are gonna teach Vito a lesson as a group activity. What a gang! Sandro caught my eye, and we exchanged smiles.