The Staring Straight Guy at the Pool
He was on the other side of the pool opposite our lounges; tanned, buff, toned, and completely out of sorts. The look was of a straight man who can’t stop himself from looking at another man; and he has no idea what that makes of him.
The starer was wearing a Speedo no doubt with the knowledge that his considerable package shows very well indeed; the problem was he ran into a bigger package (my husband’s) on a better body (in fairness not by much). Apparently this was new for him based on the way he was handling it less than comfortably.
Hell we know a couple and another friend who all swing heavier than Kent does; three guys that we know and have seen their junk to know. That can’t be unusual even for hung guys can it? Encountering the next bigger swinging dick in the jungle of life?
Starer has no wedding ring, I thought to myself. Then I wondered if that meant there was some opportunity here. Then I wondered since when it had anything to do with anything; I laughed momentarily.
Kent keeps his ripped bod very easily; I struggle. True I’m almost fifteen years older than he is; another truth is that when I was my husband’s age now I was struggling to keep my lean-muscled tone to ensure I was attractive to the attractive men I craved.
When I met Kent he was a waiter in a restaurant where I ate regularly. I knew he was built, handsome, and had an ass to dream about fucking; but he always wore a short apron for his order pad and other tools of his trade so it wasn’t until more than half a year later when we finally hooked-up that I learned he was hung like a horse. That night I abandoned my skepticism about the theory of the size of a man’s hands! So even in jeans Kent’s bulge is estimable. In jams well let’s say simply that the starer could hardly be reproached for his fixation on my husband’s mound of man-flesh.
“Do me a favor,” I said to my husband without moving anything other than my lips and my tongue. “And don’t move a muscle until you’ve heard me out.”
“Anything for you hon,” he said completely still with the sun shining off his sweaty lotion-y skin.
“There’s a guy in a Speedo … “
“Yellow? White draw-string? VERY nice package? Hasn’t taken his eyes off us?”
“That’s the one,” I said with no small exasperation. Of course he saw the starer. “And not to put too fine a point on it but he hasn’t taken his eyes off your crotch bulge!” Kent laughed at that; I love my husband’s laugh and it goes straight to my groin.
As if on cue a pool waiter we’d flirted with for several days passed. Kent flagged him. “Akoni,” he called.
“May I be of service Mr. Sherbourne?” the hunky native Hawaiian surfer asked more formally than he needed to after having stopped abruptly.
Man could he!
Kent always knows what I’m thinking. “In addition to the filthy thoughts about how you might be of service Akoni that are running through my husband’s head yes in a different way. The man opposite us … “
“Speedo? Bulge the size of a softball?” Of course he’d know whom we were asking about.
“Got it in one!” Kent said.
“Blew him the first day he was here and again yesterday,” the college-aged waiter said nonchalantly.
“WHAT?” I cried.
“Shhhhhhhhhh!” Akoni said blushing and laughing.
We waited.
“He tipped me $100 bucks cash. I figured why not show my … appreciation? And just for the record sirs? It wasn’t … well it wasn’t entirely the cash; it was curiosity.”
He’d paused and Kent was having none of it. “AND?”
“Sirs if I tell you any more I go from whore to indiscreet whore.”
“And your point?” Kent pressed him.
“What if I offer the tea if you two … “ he let that float out into the wave-punctuated cacophony of activity noise as his eyes traveled down Kent’s delectable torso to his prominent package.
“So you’re fully embracing the indiscreet ho thing?” I asked him.
“If it gets me to be the meat in your sandwich,” he said very seriously, “I’m all over it.”
“Are we bartering here or making a play-date?” Kent asked.
“If I’m lucky both!” Anoki said with a wink.
“Al?” Kent asked.
“Like I’d pass-up a fine slice of island beef?”
It was true; Anoki was a fine specimen and definitely had the beef. Well over six feet though from our vantage point on lounges it was difficult to tell how far; we hadn’t ever been standing with him to more finitely assess it. Mile-wide shoulders on a muscular torso that was evidenced by his biceps and triceps nearly busting his short sleeves, definition at his open collar that evoked images of the rock-hard pecs lingering under his tailored shirt, a jock bubble butt that bounced rhythmically as he moved, quads emerging from his tight tapered shorts that looked more lethal than the villainess femme fatale’s in GoldenEye, and a long neck that was perfectly corded like my husband’s supporting a handsome head with very very black hair. Oh and a very respectable bulge that suggested this young man could be a prime contributor to the future genetic pool should he swing that way or choose to bank his swimmers.
“So honestly,” he was continuing having taken my affirmation as assent, “the tough macho bro straight shit totally goes out the window when his dick is hard … or hard-ER.”
Kent’s interest was peaked. “That sounds … interestingly cryptic.”
Anoki took a moment and did a slow recon of the area; I presumed he was checking to see if any of the other pool-side residents or guests needed service. Then he said, “Three words: show-er not grower. And on the male hardness scale low-range at best.”
Kent and I looked at each other and said, “All show then?”
Anoki gave an uncharacteristically camp, “UH HUH!” In unison we all looked at the starer at once. Then Anoki swore. “Shit he’s looking and we’re all staring!”
Kent waved; Anoki and I gasped. Then the starer waved self-consciously and for the first time looked away.
“Kind of a weak wave for a macho bro type,” I said.
“FAUX macho bro,” Kent corrected me.
Anoki cut in. “Actually the guy IS all man; taste, smell, and all masculine. Cums like an oozing volcano … fast.”
“Fast like … “ I started to ask and Kent finished the sentence.
“Premature?”
“Or he was so worked-up in anticipation of my blow-job.” He let that hang. “But yeah; maybe a minute or if I’m charitable a minute and a half. I thought I was working to get him hard and suddenly my mouth is flooded with thick … “ He paused and adjusted his package. “Let’s just say I didn’t need dinner that night.”
Now I was the one adjusting; Kent was plumped-up even more than his “hanging loose” volume had already been on display and making no effort to adjust himself to conceal it. I looked across to the starer; staring again but now with a faint smile.
And just like that Kent was up off his lounge without a word and plunged into the pool. The dive was effortless and Olympic-class and my breath caught; Kent’s muscles rippling and his taut tanned skin and thick cords of his veins were as impressive as his over-sized bulge.
“Jesus!” Anoki said with a deep rumble though decidedly without anything remotely religious involved.
“Yup. All these years and I still pinch myself that we’re together.”
“AL! Come on in,” he urged. And then he pointedly dipped his head and looked down in the direction of my nether reaches.
Anoki cracked-up. “Daddy you’ve got some serious equipment too!” he said and for the second time was full camp.
Looking down I realized that the conversation and ogling my husband had caused my dick to rise to nearly full mast. Which would not have been as significant problem if Kent didn’t insist that I wear fifties or sixties-style box-cut swim trunks that left nothing to the imagination at the best of times. And honestly I enjoy showing the state of my body in my mid-fifties; the four-inch-wide scar down my torso from my multiple thoracic surgeries four years ago notwithstanding I was in pretty great shape before and now was magazine cover quality of if I do say so myself. BUT having eight inches of pipe stretching up and across the tight fabric of the suit in one of the fanciest condos’ pool areas in Waikiki was not the look I aspired to.
I quickly turned onto my side, hunched over, and got myself off the lounge. “Some cool water will do me good.”
Anoki grinned. “I know what would do me good!” he said as I side-stepped trying to look like I was doing so to maintain the conversation with the waiter the few paces to the pool and flung myself in.
Being in the pool with my husband did little to tame my erection. I admit my thoughts were more of us naked upstairs than they were of baseball or napalm that it would have taken; I was not making an effort. He knew and led us to the infinity edge and hung his arms over and stared out at the beach and the vast pacific beyond; I did the same and enjoyed the feel of the sluicing water and the contact only with our shoulders.
“Anoki or the bulge for an afternoon snack?” he asked.
I laughed. What a life we lead! Then I answered; as always I was practical. “Based on Anoki’s description we have time for both.”
We both laughed into the surf until we didn’t and just enjoyed the view.
It was surprisingly easy. “Roy” as we came to know his name needed no convincing and wanted no small-talk. “You two like what you see?” he asked and adjusted his hips on his lounge; he hadn’t stood when we got out of the pool and went up to him.
“Enough to invite you upstairs,” Kent said and said far more than Roy got from his answer.
“I just get serviced,” he said. “I’m straight.”
“We can work with that.”
In the elevator I giggled. I couldn’t help remember Anoki’s account and think, Why bother going up to the condo? We could knock this one out right here.
“Let us in on the joke?” Roy asked in a tone I imagined he used to bully men less masculine than he. Luckily I’m not.
“My husband already knows it,” I answered cryptically showing him who wasn’t boss. The elevator door opening distracted him from coming to terms with that.
We hadn’t made small-talk in the elevator either. We asked him nothing about himself. And when we got into the condo he took in the sumptuous surroundings but said only, “How about we get this done?” Impatient; Kent had only just closed the door behind him.
“Sit up on that counter over there,” I ordered him toward the bar.
“Serve you up a drink of man-milk?”
“That’s your purpose here,” Kent said.
Roy grinned again missing the greater context, pulled down his speedo exposing his heavy junk and an appealingly hairy crack and lush though contained bush, and easily got himself onto the bar and spread for us with a smug look on his face.
Kent said, “I like a man who serves it up for easy consumption.”
I snorted.
Roy looked like he was about to say something but hesitated too long; Kent continued. “Balls or cock Al?”
In truth both were appetizing; I was sorry Anoki had given us the punch-line and I knew to set expectations low. Still his hairy largish balls and fat large dick were very appealing targets. Instead of answering I leaned in, ran my hands up each of his long strong thick thighs enjoying the coarse coating of hair, and brought my nose and my hands to his balls and dick (still hanging disappointingly) at the same time. His musk was heady when we’d had personal space. I inhaled and then swiped his musky balls on the under part of his sac with my tongue slowly. In truth he tasted divine; like a construction worker after a heavy framing day in my imagination.
He exclaimed, “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” Then I extended his fat dick to move his bunched skin away from the corona and licked once all around the soft head which got me an, “OH HELL YEAH cock-sucker. Enjoy that meat!”
I pulled away licking my lips. “Balls; definitely,” I said and went back for more.
Did I deliberately make it so that my head was in the way of Kent getting to Roy’s flaccid dick? Maybe. I’ll probably have some karmic retribution from that sometime when I’m raring to go but my own member between my legs doesn’t rise to the occasion as it were. So far so good in that department; hell even when I was in the hospital between heart surgeries my dick would be begging for attention when I was in such pain I couldn’t move. But who am I to tempt fate?
I gave Roy’s balls a break from my aggressive sucking which the harder I went the louder he moaned and pawed my head. I put both hands on his ass and he tensed. “Easy there sister!” he warned.
“He’s nobody’s SISTER, asshole!” Kent snapped and got Roy’s attention. Before Roy could reply he added, “You just need to move that ass forward so we can get a better angle and both work you at once.” Then as if reading my mind Kent said, “I can’t get to your dick the way it is now.”
Again I’m certain Roy missed the dig. As he scooted forward he apologized. “Sorry about what I said. Al I think right?” I nodded up to him having reassumed my lingual assault on his heavy hairy sac. “I was trying to be ironic. Sorry man.”
He didn’t know what ironic meant obviously but I was working on his balls which then were hanging over the edge of the bar and I could get in under and leave room for Kent to get onto his dick.
Which he did. Roy moaned. When Kent sucked in his dick, our visitor moaned like a bitch in heat.
And just as I was thinking that we might have Roy going for longer than Anoki had his balls pulled tight all of a sudden and Roy yelled, “FUCK here it comes. Ready for it?” I honestly don’t think Kent had been sucking him for the better part of a minute.
Roy carried on like it was the most epic release he’d ever had; wild moaning, slapping the bar counter amid vehement exclamations and I counted his pumps with my tongue on his nuts at a whopping sixteen! Fast-bursting pumps of the muscles delivering his genetic payload.
Kent pulled off and so did I as Roy’s carrying-on reduced. “FUCK! Anoki wasn’t kidding!” my husband sputtered coughing a little. Sure enough; Roy’s dick that had just pumped about a gallon of jizz was hanging completely flaccid.
Roy reacted. “I KNEW that little cock-sucking bit … “ He caught himself and stopped as he hopped off the bar red-faced. “I knew the pool guy was talking about me!”
“DUDE!” I got in his face. He was startled and stood with big eyes. “You show that bulge in that tiny scrap of fabric AND you give it up to gay guys and you’re surprised that someone talks about that equine-equivalent load you shoot?” I didn’t mention from a wet noodle.
Roy said, “Huh? He compared me to a horse?” He straightened his stance and jutted his crotch out some and made his junk swing. “Well can’t blame a cock-sucker for a compliment can I?”
Kent was behind him and just rolled his eyes. I couldn’t help myself as Roy reached to pick-up his swimsuit. “Don’t suppose you’ve got another stored-up and ready to go in these?” I asked and took a handful of his hairy balls. I couldn’t help taunting the cocky idiot.
Roy grinned and very gently slapped my face twice. “Now now you’re the one who chose the dry meal today.”
Yeah and it was the lightning round just like Anoki said, I thought. I just laughed; at him but he was oblivious.
He was gone and Kent and I had shed our suits, showered off the pool chemicals, I’d worked a load out of him while the cool water cascaded over us, and were comfortably naked in the shade and the wind on the terrace. Kent reached over and held my hand. “We have fun don’t we hon?”
I pulled up my knee to my chest and guided his hand to my hole. “Oh yeah we do. And unlike our quick-draw friend I know you can go again.”
And we continued our own fun.
