A Lot in Common Underneath

"You okay, Mike?"

I managed to smiled and nod. "Yeah, just give me a minute." I screwed my eyes shut and took quick breaths, willing myself to relax. My thigh muscles were tiring and it wasn't going to be long. In another minute I raised my head, letting out another cry of mingled pain and pleasure as I sank down onto his pubic bone, taking all of his sizable length into me.

"Aw Jesus," Ethan said.

"You okay, buddy?"

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Are you kidding? I've never felt anything like it. Damn, it's so sweet."

I smiled. "The pleasure's all mine, believe me." I started to slide up and down on his rod, leaning back so that it bumped my prostate on every stroke. I watched Ethan's face. He tossed his head from side to side as the new sensations flooded through him, occasionally muttering softly.

I continued to ride him, squeezing my ass muscles around his cock, now and then grinding my hips for variety. My own cock was hard as steel, despite the fact I hadn't touched it for minutes. There was no sound in the room except for our pants and groans.

Suddenly Ethan sat up so that his face was only inches from mine, his hot breath bathing my face. He slung his arms over my shoulders. His eyes were wide and dark with emotion.

"Mike, this is fantastic. I never thought I could feel like this."

I put my arms around him and leaned forward to kiss him, but he let me only have a quick peck on the lips before he hugged me hard instead. I felt a fleeting disappointment, then put the feeling aside. What he had already given me tonight was beyond my wildest dreams. I leaned back, taking him down with me, until I was doubled underneath him on the mattress, my calves over his shoulders.

"Finish me off," I whispered to him. "Fuck me just as hard as you can. Give this queer the pounding he deserves."

Ethan grinned. "You asked for it," he said. His hips swung into overdrive. In a moment the bed was shaking and squeaking and I was grunting every time he slammed into me. "You like that, queer boy?"

I didn't mind the slur one bit, in fact I egged him on. "Fuck me harder. I can take anything you can dish out, asshole. That the best you can do, straight guy?"

In reply he fucked me even harder. "Take that, bitch. How do you like that? And that? And that?"

I was stroking my cock for all I was worth. Soon I felt the sperm rising in my balls and abandoned myself to the coming explosion.

"That's it, fuck this bitch. Yeah, yeah, yeah...Oh yeah!"

A flash exploded in my brain, blinding me as jets of white cum flew from the bursting head of my cock and spattered over my heaving chest and stomach. Dimly I heard Ethan's wordless shouts and knew he must be dumping his load into the rubber buried in my ass. My arms clamped him in a viselike embrace as we rode out our simultaneous orgasms in a heaving, groaning tangle of sweaty, hairy masculine flesh.

Finally we relaxed our grip on each other, though our bodies stayed joined. I fell back onto the bed and Ethan straightened up. A slight smile played on his face as he looked down at me.

"You're going to have to get that thing cleaned."

I still had my necktie on. It was dotted with dark splotches of cum.

"Guess so."

"You sure got a mouth on you, Mike."

I grinned. "Worked, didn't it?"

"Sure did. Can't remember when I came like that." Slowly Ethan pulled out of me, drawing a groan as his cock popped out of my spent hole. The rubber ballooned with his white cum. I couldn't resist the sight, and said, "Let me."

I peeled the condom off his softening cock, raised my head and turned it inside out over my open mouth, letting Ethan's load drip down my throat. I swallowed it, dropped the condom on the floor and turned to look at him. He was taking in the scene with a half fascinated, half appalled expression on his face.

"What can I say, I love eating your cum," I told him.

He shook his head. "I've never done that," he said.

I saw the opening and pounced. "But you've sucked cock, haven't you?"

Ethan stared. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then nodded.

"I figured you had," I said to him later, after we had gotten ourselves cleaned up. We were lying in bed, our arms loosely around each other. "You were just too good at giving head. You had to have done it before."

Ethan stared at the ceiling, remembering. "In college I had some experiences with guys. Had a roommate who I found out was bi. I enjoyed it. But I gave that all up when I got married. Never felt the urge to try it again-until you came along."

I looked him in the eye. "So are you cool with it? We've still got to go back and work together, Ethan. I don't want this to screw us up."

He thought for a while. "I think so. As long as we keep it discreet."

I nodded. "What went on here stays here. No one will hear a word about this from me, ever. And I won't ask you for anything other than what you're prepared to give."

He relaxed a little more. "Thanks, Mike. I appreciate that." Then he smiled. "So do I still get to keep your jockstrap till the next time?"

My heart leaped. So Ethan was saying there would be a next time. "Damn straight. Sorry, poor choice of words," I said as he hooted with laughter.

"Well," Ethan said as we settled down to go to sleep, "I'd say this has been a good trip."

I caught a glimpse of two jockstraps on the hotel room floor, the Bike no. 10 he'd been wearing that day and the fashion jock I'd put on. "So would I." I turned out the light. In moments Ethan was asleep. The last thing I heard before I drifted off myself was his peaceful, even breathing. The last thing I felt was the warmth of his big body next to mine.

Ethan and I had started our business trip as friends and co-workers. By the end we were fuck buddies as well. We were determined to keep our new relationship a deep, dark secret, not only for the sake of Ethan's marriage but also for the company. There's no surer way to disrupt office morale than to give people something to gossip about. Ethan and I worked well together and I wanted that to continue.

So we settled into our daily routine once we got back, not changing our habits at all. If we happened to break for lunch at the same time, fine, but Ethan and I didn't go out of our way to spend time together. We never socialized after hours either-his wife was expecting their first child and as soon as quitting time rolled around he was on his way home. Needless to say, we never hugged or touched in public.

I had to admit I got frustrated once in a while, but I put up with it. I liked Ethan a lot, even more than I lusted after him. I wouldn't do anything to disrupt our friendship. I wanted him to trust me. I had an ulterior motive, after all-if he trusted me he'd be more inclined to continue what we had started. And I very much wanted that.

Ethan, good guy that he was, must have sensed what I felt. Once in a while he did something to let me know he hadn't forgotten what had happened. There was the day he walked into the men's room on our floor just as I'd finished my business. My dick leaped up at the mere sight of him--this was a common occurrence that I had to be on guard against--but I managed to zip it into my pants.

He smiled at me. "How's it going, big fella?" he asked.

"Oh, just fine," I replied, wishing I could jump his bones right there, and knowing I'd never dare.

I walked over to the washbasin and was occupying myself running water and soaping up when I heard him say my name.

"What?" I said, not looking up.

"I said look over here."

I turned my head. Ethan was standing facing the urinal, his head turned toward me. A big grin was on his face. He'd let his dress pants slide down his hips enough that I could see half his bare butt, encased in the wide waistband and leg straps of my Bike.

"I'm wearing it."

"So I see," I managed, just before he pulled down the jock in front so that his big meat flopped out. I gave up trying not to get hard.

"You freeballing today?" I heard the rattle of liquid against rubber as he let his bladder go. How could he be so fucking casual?

"Yeah."

Ethan finished peeing and milked his cock dry. A small whimper rose in my throat at the sight of him handling himself. I hoped he hadn't heard. He pulled his pants up, zipped himself closed and flushed. I forced myself back to the business of washing my hands, my own dick straining painfully at the front of my pants.

"So how are you doing with the Steiner account?" he asked as he washed his hands in the sink next to mine.

We exchanged small talk about business. He left the men's room. As soon as he was gone I raced into one of the stalls and whipped my cock out. It only took a few quick, fevered strokes before I shot into the toilet. My knees buckled as I tried to stifle my groans. Afterward depression swept over me.

Do you know how hot you are, Ethan?

Finally I calmed down enough, and my cock shrank enough, to go back to work.

I had given up hope when Ethan came up to me one morning, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" I said, hardly daring to think the thought.

He punched me on the arm. "Boss man's sending us on the road again, guy."

The desire to throw my arms around him and squeeze the breath from his body was overwhelming. I did allow myself a hearty clap on his shoulder. "That's great. When?"

A week later we were in coach together on an American Airlines flight, poring over our notes, tapping away on our laptops side by side. I was so happy I was beyond lust. It was just great to have my best friend to myself, doing what we both loved most-our jobs.

I'm being honest when I say that I didn't think of anything other than business until after we checked into the hotel and were on our way up the elevator. I caught Ethan's eye. He had a mischievous grin on his face.

"What?" I said, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"I'm wearing it," he said. "You?"

I kept my voice even, though the blood was pounding in my ears and my breathing was quick and shallow. "Yep."

"Good." Ethan fell silent. We didn't speak further until we had found our room and the door was safely shut behind us. He put down his baggage and began to unbuckle his belt. I followed his lead. In a moment we were dressed in nothing but jockstraps, both pouches bulging.

"Time for you to give mine back," I told him.

He nodded. "That was the deal. Want to swap?"

My cock leaped in its pouch. "Yeah." We stripped our supporters off together and straightened. We were both naked, and very, very hard.

Ethan smiled and licked his lips. "First things first."

He dropped my Bike jock that he had worn for weeks on the floor, fell to his knees and took my erection into his mouth. It was a warm, wet homecoming and I groaned out a welcome. I pulled back after only a few minutes to avoid cashing in my chips too soon. The jock that I had peeled off moments before was balled up in my clenched fist. I took it and pressed the pouch into his face. Ethan whiffed and slurped at it, his cries of satisfaction muffled by the stretchy fabric. I looked down at his cock, hard as steel, poking up from the thicket of pubic hair, a thread of syrup hanging from the rosy cap. The next moment I was down on the floor on all fours catching the precious fluid with my tongue.

We never did make it to the bed, but ended up sixty-nining on the carpeted floor of the hotel suite beside our luggage and discarded clothes, sending up a symphony of slurps and groans that were muffled by the cocks and balls stuffed into our mouths. Eventually I took a breather and let my tongue wander behind his ball sack and through his legs, wetting the hairs in his crack until it reached the silky flesh of his asshole. It had been too long since I'd eaten good ass and I plunged right in. Ethan moaned as he sucked me, a human vibrator. The climax I'd tried to hold back came rushing up. I broke away from rimming him and cried out "Fuck I'm cumming!" Too late-through the blinding force of the orgasm I could feel myself emptying volley after volley into his mouth. To my surprise Ethan didn't choke or pull away, but stayed clamped to my spigot until my balls were drained. Finally he let me go and I sat up, still shaky. He grimaced playfully at me as he wiped his mouth.

"My first load," he said.

"So how was it?" I asked him.

"You want to know the truth, I think cum tastes lousy."

I laughed. "Not everyone likes it. At first."

He shook his head. "Don't know if I ever will." He pointed at me. "I know YOU do."

"That's right. And I'm ready for yours now."

He gave it to me a few moments later, straddling my chest as I lay on the floor, stroking away until animal noises began to rise from his heaving chest. He must have been saving it too, because the quantity was amazing-half a dozen hot, thick jets full in my face that trickled in gooey streams down my forehead, cheeks and chin. The rich odor of semen filled my nostrils. I opened my mouth and caught as much as I could with my tongue.

Ethan spoke, his voice hoarse with lust. "Damn, you look hot like that, Mike."

I put my hands on his chest, raking the thick hair with my fingers, and smiled up at him. "Drinks at seven, dinner at eight."

We untangled ourselves, cleaned up, unpacked and went out to eat, wearing our swapped jocks.

I'd wondered after the first time whether Ethan would go on a guilt trip and pull back from exploring his bisexual side. Obviously I needn't have worried.

Most people having clandestine affairs feel bad afterward for one reason or another. When I think about my two years or so with Ethan I don't have a single regret. It was the happiest time of my life.

It was also strange. For part of the time I even had a boyfriend, who was as blissfully ignorant what was going on as Ethan's wife seemed to be. Since we stuck to our rule about never doing anything when we were both at home, it was easy to keep things under wraps. After a few trips it became obvious to management what a successful team we made on the road, so the joint assignments kept coming in, just often enough to keep me from getting frustrated and doing anything rash.

Our entire relationship was crammed into those eight or ten road trips. Make no mistake, work came first. We never let sex interfere with our jobs--not for nothing were we two of the most productive team members. But as soon as the meetings, presentations, lunches and schmoozing were over and we were back at the hotel, we peeled business matters off with our clothes, which we never wore in the room.

Swapping jocks on these trips quickly became an unbreakable tradition. Each of us had a rule we made the other follow. Ethan's was that I had to give him a different kind of jock every time. That was easy, since I had a bit of a fetish and owned dozens. As a joke one time I brought him a novelty number that had a hole in the pouch, a so-called suspensory jock. He cracked up when he saw me wearing it, but got down on his knees with enthusiasm. "Easy access," he said, chuckling, just before he inhaled my dick. He was game and wore it to work, too, as he did all the others, lowering his trousers and modeling it for me in the men's room, snickering. Later he winked when we passed in the hallway and I copped a look at the larger-than-usual bulge in his dress pants.

My rule for him was, he could wear my jock as much he wanted while he had it--but he could never wash it. Of course that meant when he gave it back after a month or two it was permeated with his scent, guaranteed to make me pop wood with one heady whiff or by putting it on. I always wondered how he explained the jockstraps to his wife, or whether maybe he hid them away from her. He never said.

Stripping down for the swap usually resulted in a bout of reunion sex before the trade, like what happened on our second trip. Seeing each other every day at work for weeks on end and never being able to do anything built up a lot of sexual tension. Sometimes we had to run to a dinner appointment the night of our arrival because we'd been balling just before, but we always made it on time.

Those quickies were great fun, and left enough cum in us for the long sessions after we came in at night, agreeably high from social drinking and horny with anticipation. We could barely get our clothes off fast enough, in fact one or another of us sometimes kept his jock on for a while. After all, leg straps and waistbands were handy to grab onto while giving head or eating ass, and pouches made great facemasks or cum receptacles.

Though Ethan had made the initial plunge back into mansex with surprising ease, that didn't mean he was going to do anything and everything. Like many married men he had definite limits as far as sex with another man was concerned. It became my little project to break down his inhibitions one by one. If I couldn't get him to do something, well, there was always the next trip. I was a patient man.

The times where I succeeded in getting him to break a taboo he'd had for himself were the most memorable. One especially is still burned into my brain.

It was one of the rare times on our trips that things hadn't gone well on the business end. This particular client was indecisive and demanding, a particularly irritating combination. We trudged to our hotel room at the end of a long afternoon meeting, feeling pretty down. Ethan tried to cheer me up.

"Look on the bright side, buddy," he said. "Mixner's pretty much said the deal's not going to happen, so we don't have to get up early tomorrow just to go grovel some more."

"I suppose," I replied. "But I still hate spoiling our perfect record."

"What do you mean, spoil?" Ethan winked. "We swapped our jocks first thing, just like always."

I smiled and my spirits lifted a little. "And you know what that means."

Twenty minutes later we were on the bed, me underneath, having a pre-dinner fuck, which I for one badly needed after the stressful day. Ethan apparently did too, judging from the force of his thrusts and the foulness of his language. Ever since the first time when I'd encouraged him he'd loved to talk dirty during sex. Today, though, there was an extra edge to his verbal abuse.

"Take it, fucker. Take it up your queer ass," he muttered.

Usually such talk from Ethan drove me wild, especially while his cock was reaming my hole. Today, though, I found myself getting irritated. This stuff I didn't need after getting flack all day from our client. I thought of a way to get him back.

"Queer, eh? At least I know what I am."

Ethan pulled up short. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

A little voice inside me warned me not to cross the line, but I was in no mood to listen.

"Admit it. We're lovers. You're as queer as I am."

His eyes narrowed. "You calling me queer?"

I knew I was playing with fire, but I was enjoying his discomfiture. I smiled.

"Yeah. 'Cause you're not man enough to kiss me."

Ethan's jaw dropped. He hadn't expected this. "What?" was all he could say. I was on a roll.

"That's right. You don't have the guts. C'mon, I dare you."

His face darkened like a thundercloud, and he raised his arm. A thrill of real fear rose in me-for a split second I thought I'd pushed him too far. He was going to wallop me, helpless, impaled on his monster cock, still hard as steel up my ass.

Then his hand clamped around the back of my head, shoving it up toward his face. His lips came down on mine, hard, shutting off my air supply. My first shocked reaction to the assault was to open my mouth, and his tongue drove inside. Trapped, I struggled and whimpered, but couldn't escape.

There was no choice except to kiss him back.

I have no idea how long we sucked face. When he released me my lips were bruised, my tongue sore, my cheeks scraped with beard burn. I took a deep breath and went back for more.