The next-to-the-last weekend had now descended for the gang at Spirit Lake before summer ended and we scattered again to our respective colleges and "whatever" activities. Giddiness was high, which is saying something for the group of friends from the affluent Atlanta uptown district of Buckhead, but we'd been on the other edge of giddy every weekend we'd come down to the lake.
I groaned slightly at the sound.
"Micah, wake up," a voice sang to me.
I groaned again, louder this time.
"Micah, babe, you can't stay asleep all day," the sing-song voice chided me, "you have to wake up now."
"It's Sunday," I mumbled in protest.
He was getting close, and Lois showed no signs of stopping. She was riding his sodden shaft like she was riding a bucking bronco, except he lay utterly still. Her bouncing breasts drove him crazy. He wanted so much to explode right inside her, but he couldn't.
"Almost there. Just a little –"
This happened when I was in college and shared a duplex with a friend and fellow student at the beach. It was summertime and we both worked at a hot-spot bar at the beach. It was a great summer. We spent our days at the beach and nights working at a place where it didn't even seem like working sometimes. It was the 70s when disco was hot, and the place was crawling with girls down for the week from Ohio and New Jersey. They just wanted to drink and get laid and we were happy to accommodate.
I had just turned 21 years old and every gay male who reaches that age does what every male gay or straight will do and that is to legally drink and go out and hit the bars and clubs. That day finally came in the summer of many years ago and I hit my first gay club with some friends. We were partying it up seeing the male strip show and then having shots, drinks, and just having some fun.
I was in Dallas on a business trip, it wasn't in the best of neighborhoods, but not the worst by any stretch it was actually more of an industrial district, mostly factories and warehouses, but an occasional hotel or burger joint.
I was staying in one of those hotels, not a bad one either. They had clean rooms and a well lit parking lot. One of my employees (Jim) and I were staying in one room and another employee (Mike) was staying in another due to his excessive snoring.
Carl is the type of black man that white women fantasize about having sex with. He's tall, muscular, very dark skinned, 36 years old with a shaved head and strong African features. I am a tall, slim 48 year old white guy who looks much younger than his age. I met Carl while playing on a local softball team. We quickly became friends and fell into the habit of spending Saturday nights together when neither of us had dates. He would come to my house and we would order pizza and drink beer.
Bill and I went bar-hopping last Friday night and had a good time with a couple of girls, although nothing sexual took place except a little bit of feeling each other up at an isolated table. Realizing that the bars were starting to thin out and we weren't doing so well in getting some late-night female action, we decided to call it a night.
I was stretched along Andrew closely, embracing him with one arm, while I stroked his ass with the supersized lubricated cock dildo. He was making all of the right noises, but I could sense that the passion just wasn't totally there. He wasn't writhing or trembling as he had been doing for years under the attention of my own cock.
I was walking around the pond by my house. The sun was shining and it was a very hot day. As I came over the bridge I noticed my school's soccer team was practicing at the soccer fields. There were about 25 of them , all hot and sweaty. But I only cared about one of them. Jason Little was running across the field to get a drink of water as I sat down on one of the metal bleachers. I pretended to text one of my friends but I was really eyeing his perfectly rounded ass.