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Sunday, February 10, 2008

Christian -- Request #2

"Absolutely not, Chris! Do you understand me? What the hell is wrong with you?" his father shouted.

"Dad, I wouldn't think you'd be this angry about me wanting to join the Navy. After all, I know you've had more than a few surprises these past couple of years ..."

Chris was leaning against the kitchen counter as his father glared at him. His mother was sitting at the table, tears welling in her eyes.

"First there was this whole coming out thing ..."

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but his father raised his hand.

"... let me finish. It was a terrible adjustment for your mother and me to find out that our only child was gay, but we got over that shame..."

"Dad ..."

"I SAID let me finish! Then there was that, that THING you put between your eyes ..."

"The bridge piercing."

"... and we didn't say anything. Lord, how I wanted to rip that right off your face. THEN you got those tattoos! I wanted to throw you out of the house right there and then, but your mother stopped me. You look like some goddamn convict with those black swirls on your arm and shoulder. And that one around your navel makes you look like a male whore! You're playing college football now - you have a perfect chance to go professional with your record - and you want to join the NAVY? You want to get yourself killed?"

Chris was at a loss for words. Handsome, tall and muscular with light blonde hair, he was the star quarterback for the USC Trojans. Several scouts had already approached him about the draft after he graduated, but he had demurred the offers. This was something he had to do - something that was more important than throwing a piece of leather for a hundred yards.

"Dad, I'm twenty-one years old. I'm not a child any more. I'm not asking for your permission. I'm telling you what I'm going to do. I'll finish college when I come home."

"Well, you're not coming home here, Christian! As far as I'm concerned, you can get the hell out of this house and stay out!" his father roared.

"If you feel that way about it Dad, I'll pack tonight and stay over at uncle Pete's until I ship out."

Chris had had enough of his father's tirade. He glared at him and gave his weeping mother a kiss. He grabbed his car keys and slammed the door behind him.

The quarterback got into his car and took a deep breath. The best way to work off your anger is to physically burn it out - he started the car and headed out to the USC weight room.

* * *
Christian had known that it had come as a complete shock to his parents when he admitted he was gay - "and I didn't help matters any with the tattoos and piercings ..." he said to himself.

He was stung by his father's remarks about the inkings; but it was - in his opinion - the right thing to do. The tribal tats down his arm and around his shoulder only accented his physique and the bridge piercing - a plain steel barbell going through the fleshy part of his nose right between the eyes - brought attention to his clear and direct grey gaze.

Chris pulled into his space at the USC parking garage and proceeded to walk to the football arena. He waved to several other players as he crossed the field and entered the locker room to change. He pulled the muscle-tee over his head and was positioning himself in his jock when he heard a familiar voice:

"From the looks of it, the Navy thing didn't go too well. Are you okay?"

Coach Corey Michaelson was leaning against the doorway of the locker room, a look of concern on his face.

"No... No it didn't. My mom was hysterical crying and my dad threw me out of the house. I'm going to have to stay over at my uncle's apartment until I go for basic training. I was so angry when I left that I felt I had to burn some of that negative energy off."

Chris looked at the coach - he was twenty-eight years old with short, dark hair and dark eyes. Michaelson was wearing a grey heather t-shirt that accented his muscular chest and arms and a pair of cutoff sweat pants that showcased his long strong legs. The quarterback had talked extensively about his plans to the coach, as well as many other things. Chris trusted him and saw him as the wiser, older brother he had never had.

"C'mon - let's go into the weight room and see what we can do about it." He put his arm around the younger man and the two went into the exercise area. It was empty. He put a couple of workout mats on the floor. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and smiled at the quarterback.

Chris grinned as he allowed himself to be pushed back onto the soft mats. His legs parted for Corey and he felt the weight of the other settle on him. He welcomed the weight pressing him in onto the mat for it represented security and comfort. His hands roamed over Corey's shoulders, kneading the muscles and bones. One of his legs slid up along the coach's calf and settled comfortably atop his thigh, pinning him close.

Corey placed soft kisses along the quarterback's smooth jaw, tasting the sweet skin that was like honey. He nuzzled along the long neck, searching out Christian's tender spots with his lips and teeth. As he settled more comfortably between Chris' legs, he felt the other's erection pressing insistently into his belly and he moaned softly. His own erection pulled tightly at his cutoffs and he squirmed with the sweet torture. Fingers tugged his thick hair and Christian's encouraging whispers tickled his ears.

Corey's own hands roamed over the warm skin and felt the tightening of the younger man's nipples as his fingers grazed lightly over the flat disks. His tongue followed his hands and he lapped eagerly, hungrily, at Chris' nipples. Corey felt his lover's hands on his back, fingers digging brutally in to his shoulders. Far from being uncomfortable, the pain was a sweet sensation and spurred him on. He ground his hips against Christian's groin and grunted as his lover's leg tightened around him.

"I want to touch you," breathed Chris against Corey's thick, dark hair.

Corey raised himself and scrambled backwards. Their shorts were tented with their erections and the laces strained. Corey dropped his head back as calloused hands roamed his chest. He shivered as a warm, wet tongue licked and suckled his pebbled nipple. When teeth bit sharply and deeply in to the same nipple, he hissed his pleasure and jabbed his fingers hard against Chris' shoulders.

Chris kissed and licked his way down Corey's chest until he reached the small indention of his navel. His tongue poked roughly in to the opening and he chuckled as the coach's breath caught. He continued slipping his tongue in and out, his saliva slicking Corey's abdomen. He felt his lover begin to tremble and slowed his ministrations. With a final nip, he moved down and placed his face to the bulge in Corey's cutoffs, inhaling deeply of the masculine scent. His tongued traced the bulge from top to bottom and he felt the cock beneath the cloth stir responsively. He looked up from beneath his thick lashes and caught the coach looking at him with lust-filled eyes.

Soundlessly, Corey pushed Chris back onto the mat and tugged the laces of his cutoffs. The thick shaft sprang free and he lovingly ran his hands up and down the length. Chris moaned softly and dipped his head to kiss the head of the cock. He tasted pre-cum and groaned deep in his throat. He sat up again and unlaced his own shorts, breathing easier once the straining material was loosened.

He moved around on the mat until he could place his groin over Corey's eager mouth and sighed with pleasure as wet heat enveloped him. Pushing aside the material, he took Chris into his hand and held the base of the cock with thumb and forefinger while the rest of his fingers splayed over the tight sac. He opened his mouth wide and lowered his head, pushing Chris deeper in to his mouth. He slid his tongue over the swollen head. He swallowed. He allowed Chris to raise his hips, pushing and straining deeper in to his mouth until his eyes watered.

Christian accepted the cock in to his mouth and his hands slid beneath the coach's cutoffs. He caressed and kneaded the taut ass and pushed Michaelson down, forcing the heavy cock further back in his throat. He moaned at the taste of the coach. He sucked greedily, brushing his tongue over the slit. On either side of his head, Corey's knees trembled and his hips jerked. Chris locked his arms tightly around the coach's hips and lifted his head, taking as much of his lover in to his mouth as he could. The quarterback hummed as he feverishly sucked him, encouraging him with lips and tongue to spill his seed.

Corey raised his head and hissed loudly as his hips jerked. He could not stop the thrust of his hips as he felt the tension building deep within him. He could feel his sac draw and tighten as Christian's steady rhythm brought him closer to climax. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, forcing a measure of control back on his body. Dipping his head again, he recaptured the quarterback's cock in his mouth and his teeth razed along the length until his lover's hips lifted clear of the ground and both men grunted.

Chris tasted the salty cum as his lover's climax spilled in to his mouth. The cock between his lips twitched and he held it steady with his tongue and used his mouth's powerful suction to milk the sweet fluid from his lover. He clutched the hips above his head tighter and rode the waves of his lover's pleasure even as his own climax rocked through his body.

Michaelson wrapped his arms around Chris' thighs and clung like a drowning man to a raft. The heavy shaft bobbed and jerked at the back of his throat and he swallowed reflexively as pearly fluid spurted from his lover and spilled down his throat. He groaned and his body shook with his climax even as he held tight to the young quarterback. And when his lover was spent, he let the cock slip from his mouth and licked and slurped along the soft curls at its base, savoring the precious drops of cum that had escaped him.

"Feeling better, now?" the coach asked.

* * *
"Hey Chris? You were a million miles away there for a while, buddy. What's the matter?" Shayn wrapped his arms around the Navy SEAL and gently kissed his neck.

The tears were streaming down the younger man's face. "I got a letter from my mom - my old football coach was killed in a car accident."

* * *

Like the uniform request I got before, I received a request for a football jock alter ego. The concept was a great one, and I spent a good deal of time figuring out what he would look like, how he would act and how he would be related to my other AEs. I had picked up a football jersey off of Ebay previously - I had seen it with the team of the "Trojans" and I could not resist the subtle double entendre with the team name and my various AE's proclivities. My initial plan for the jersey was a "casual" day with either Danny or Brendan watching a football game. This turned out to be much, much better! I briefly introduced a young SEAL commander during my Shayn story and I found I wanted to further develop that character. I decided that the SEAL - Chris - would be the football jock and I could make his backstory a flashback.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Hollow Man

I'd say call me 'Nemo', but that would be rather anti-climactic. In some ways - I, like Nemo, have been driven by a thirst for vengeance, and have suffered terrible, heart-crushing losses. I have been forged anew in these furnaces of pain and for the very first time when I looked into the mirror today, I saw someone I couldn't recognize. Masks have become my life and the face I was born with is now foreign to me.

My revenge is complete, but I have no life to return to. I cannot go back; I cannot move forward and pick up the pieces of my existence. Masks from Greyland and SPFX are my constant companions - the outside world knows me only by whom I choose to be at the moment, and the jobs I take during the day may have nothing to do with the persona I wear at night. I may be a latino bouncer or a black enforcer; I can be a Hindu programmer or a fireman. I will serve and protect as a police officer and I will take money and snuff out a life as easily as blowing out a match. My skills are as varied as my masks. The masks define the core of my being.

The scent and feel of rubber against my skin brings feelings that can only begin to be described in words. A second skin, an ebon, near-living sheath that surrounds and protects me is how I relax. Sometimes, encasement is enough; at other times, the need to be gagged - the need to physically prevent the screams waiting to rip from my throat - drive me. I encase myself in rubber beneath my street clothes - an active talisman against the swarming masses of humanity. When the need to dominate another becomes unendurable, I go to the one of the various clubs hidden in the city. Encased in my black armor, I will take what I want - and who I want. I find my release and salvation in the brutal thrusts of my sheathed member into a victim. Willing or unwilling, I see the faint hints of terror as they look at my black mask and feel the touch of my latex-clad hands on their naked flesh. And wonder what is their fate this night.

Time to play.

Creepy enough for you? I'm in the middle of reading a horror novel and I'm in a cold-shiver-down-the-spine mindset. I did this shoot based on an incident that happened to a friend of a friend. The poor guy went to a play party, dressed in latex and then managed to get himself locked into a body harness and zip-mouth mask. He then proceeded to lose track of the people that were holding the keys. He had to dress up like the Invisible Man and show up at my buddy's house to have him remove the locks with bolt cutters and hacksaws to get out of his shackles. Needless to say, both my buddy and I were more than a bit turned on by the outfit Peter was wearing when he showed up at his door. I decided to try something similar (but without any locks). As you can see in the photographs, this outfit is extremely arousing ...