A 10-Year Load

A time-honored truth among men is that the longer you wait, the better the orgasm. Of course, no normal guy can physically hold out for ten years, but the mind can certainly hold a deep, lustful desire that long – even longer, I imagine. And, when the holding back doesn't have to be any more, it can certainly be worth a decade of waiting.

I'd be lying if I said I don't know what made me track down Dean after ten years. I'd be telling a major lie if, having found him, I said I don't know what made me call him to meet for lunch. The truth is that I wanted to finally act on my unending desire for sex with Dean. My gut, which was churning with a combination of excitement and apprehension of doubt as I made the call, told me to forget it. Fortunately, he seemed really pleased to hear from me, and we agreed on a date to meet.

Dean is now City Engineer for a top-ten US city. When the day arrived, I went to his offices. As I was standing in the lobby of his suite of offices I was kicking myself internally for wasting my time on this. "What the fuck am I doing here?" I mentally asked myself. What would Dean look like after ten years? How could I have thought of sex with him now, ten years after we went our separate ways? We had never had any sort of relationship other than being co-workers. What I did not grasp from our friendly smiles and warm handshake was that this was absolutely the right call. The clues kept coming, although I didn't realize them at the time.

Ten years back, Dean and I worked together at an engineering firm. We were just out of college and worked in the same cubical. Day after long, slow day, I surreptitiously leered at Dean's body, and not having it is what made the time pass slowly. I'm convinced that I'm just average looking, but Dean was fucking awesome. Aside from his warm and friendly personality, he had a chiseled face, a well-toned body and a killer ass. On the weekends when we had to work, and Dean was in his cut-offs and t-shirt, I could almost cum in my pants just seeing his nipples though his shirt and that ass – that ass -- perching out holding his cut-offs like fine drapery. I spent countless hours that one year fantasizing about sex with him. I would turn around to see his back and his ass cleavage exposed between his t-shirt and shorts as he leaned over his desk, working. All I could think of was where and to what the crack led. I imagined following the trail down to the sweet spot. In the restroom, I sneaked peeks of his smooth, sizeable cock. I imagined it hard and in my mouth and ass, spewing body-warm loads of jiz. At the end of that year, he moved on and eventually got married. In the ten years since then, I spent countless hours beating off to those images. The real image as I saw him after ten years was awesome. Dean was even better looking, at least better than I remembered, which is saying a lot.

The first clue of where this lunch date was headed was his telling the receptionist that he might be late getting back from lunch. We walked to the restaurant, ate and pleasantly shared stories we recalled. We talked about who had done what in the intervening years.

The second missed clue was his telling how his marriage sex life had grown ice cold. Dean blushed as he admitted to his lack of two-person sex for over two years! As one might expect after this long apart, there were a few awkward silences. After one, though, Dean said, "let's go, I want to show you something."

We walked a few blocks to an unoccupied, beautifully ornate building built in the 1920's. As we walked there, Dean said the City owned it now, and it was being renovated into City offices. He thought I might like to see it. We took the elevator to the top floor, which had been the executive floor of a big insurance company. This excursion revealed the third clue I didn't catch. When we arrived on the 25th floor, Dean for some reason said: "I have the only key to this floor." My mind was so locked into my desire to have Dean that I missed the clues that I really might get my wish.

This floor was impressive alright. It was like a time capsule from 90 years ago. It was a jewel of the Moderne Style. He pointed out the ornate, whimsical plaster ceiling and old light fixtures created after only about 25 years of commercial electricity. As impressive were the architectural features, I couldn't keep my eyes off of Dean's still tight ass muscles pumping as he walked. Dean showed me the walnut wall paneling and oak and walnut floors. Beautiful wood was everywhere. He would turn around with his bangs down to his eyebrows and toss them aside as he pointed to some feature of the building. From the corner of my vision I saw his ,package. It started looking like another beautiful wood feature too. Was it, or was this all in my head?

While my mind was on industrial sex over-production I didn't trust my judgment. I was getting embarrassingly hard. I was trying to redirect my mind to regain composure. Instead of my mind regaining its composure, all the clues clicked: his late return from lunch; his lack of sex for two years; his only key to the floor we were on in a completely empty high-rise; and now the fourth clue, his growing package.

Dean put his arm over my shoulder ostensibly just leading me to an enormous window looking over downtown. My dick began to rage as I felt his warm, physical contact. As we approached the window, Dean dropped his arm from my shoulder, but kept it pressed against my arm as he pointed out this building and that with his other arm. The real, unspoken conversation was the warm physical contact.

Dean then turned and stared at my dick straining against my pants, which he by now had noticed. Busted! He said, smiling, "you reeeeally must love good architecture." There was a nervous laugh.

I stared into his eyes for a moment, and I felt my face turning red hot from the adrenalin rush from what might be his interest in my body – or humiliating embarrassment, not knowing his feelings. Who knows how long we stood there staring deeply into each other. I just knew or hoped he was rock hard without looking down. Dean finally broke the silence and asked still staring, "can I tell you something you absolutely, positively won't repeat"?

All I could muster was "please."

Although there was no other person to hear him within 25 floors of building, Dean said in a hushed voice, "I know why you called me. You finally worked up the nerve to ask me out to hook up. All those year we used to work together, I saw the way you stared at me. I knew you wanted me." Didn't you" he asked nervously. "You did, right?"

Dean was desperate for confirmation of his incredibly honest, exposed feelings and desires, but all I could do was pathetically look down at my feat in embarrassment like having been caught stealing, and truthfully I had stole countless looks after all ten years ago. Vocabulary failed me again as I shrugged still looking at my feat. A pathetic "yeah" came out. Totally busted! Totally humiliated.

"Yeah, I knew it," Dean replied, sounding both relieved and triumphant, although his brief victory lap was soon subdued back to pure inner, raw emotion. He confessed, almost sadly, "you know I never thought anyone would ever look at and think of me that way and was so turned on that you thought I was hot. I would sit at my desk working with a hard on for hours, knowing you were staring at me and hoping you'd get the courage to do something about it. I couldn't work up the courage either but hoped you could. When nothing happened, all I could do was go home and at least beat off thinking about you fucking me. I wanted you sooo bad. No one before or since really made me think of myself that way, especially in my situation now," referring I suppose to his now sexless marriage. He just looked down, a bit embarrassed too at his confession.

I was literally speechless. Some inner drive, though, fueled by the sincerity of our confessions gave me the tiny bit of the courage we had lacked back then, and I gently put my hand under his chin and gently lifted it away from his pain. I stared into his steel blue eyes to at least offer empathy. He reached out and put his arms on my shoulder and pulled us close. Our foreheads touched, and we both looked down at our raging erections and heard each other breathing hard. Dean whispered, "I've wanted you ever since you made me feel this way."

It had taken a decade, but I finally – finally – got the real courage to lift my head and plant a deep kiss on his full lips. I was finally getting the feel, taste and smell of Dean as our mouths opened wide and our tongues swirled. I was stroking his cock through his cloths as we kissed. I pulled Dean hard – figuratively and literally – against me. Sure we had had countless orgasms over the intervening year, but Dean had finally pushed me across the Rubicon; an apt metaphor for the river of desire building for ten years that was about to overflow.

The dam broke. Dean pulled away abruptly and just stared into me again. What was he thinking, I wondered, as I stared back? He answered physically. Without even unbuckling his belt, his thumbs hooked into the waist of his pants and shoved them down to his ankles. He wasn't wearing underwear. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The hot body my mind's eye envisioned over the years couldn't come close to the real thing. His body was taught. His rigid dick curved upward from his dark bush, and his balls were already pulling upward. I moved in and immediately grasped and stroked it. Just that much was almost too much. He returned the favor and continued to feel me up.

Dean again pulled back to break contact and turned away toward the walnut wall. I soaked in the vision of his protruding, round, tight ass I craved so long as he bent forward. It was almost hairless except for the dark patch around and over his hole. He spread his legs apart as far as his pants allowed and bent forward, pushing his awesome ass up. In a cracked voice that sounded as though he was about to cry, he pleaded, "fuck me." He stood there, shaking now -- praying – that I would, but this was far too hot and intimate to simply dump a quick load.

I pushed my pants down and dropped to my knees. I leaned in to freely eat his ass that desperately wanted my cock. I parted his muscular ass cheeks and opened my mouth wide around his hairy hole. Saliva was pouring from mouth as I nibbled, sucked and licked. The feel of his course hair on my tongue instinctively made me reach in with my thumbs to stretch his pink hole wide. Having made it through the bush, my tongue punched as deeply inward as it could into his hole. All I could think of was going deep into him. All the sights, smells and feel were driving me wild. His hole was so tight; I knew this hole was virgin. Dean was moaning with each stroke of my tongue, as I tried desperately to work it in deeper. He begged again, "please fuck me!" I was stroking my meat during all this and was ready to make my fantasies this reality, and his too.

I stood and ran my throbbing dick up and down his crack, pushing his round ass globes in against my dick with my hands. I thought an ass this tight will take a struggle to enter, but Dean fixed that. As soon as my prick head touched his warm hole, still wet with my saliva, Dean reached back to grab my thighs. He then urgently began to work his ass onto my pole. His voice let out an involuntary "unnagh" with each of his thrusts backward. He took a little time to burry my dick in his unbelievably tight hole clamping around my dick. Once all the way in he stopped to adjust, panting at the pain, but then started to push his ass up and back smoothly and completely to fuck himself on me. I grabbed his hips and helped pull him back. His smooth strokes in and out quickened. Soon he was pushing himself onto me as deeply onto me as he could. He his whole body was quivering. A he pushed back, his warm, firm, smooth ass massaged my front. He swirled my throbbing dick around in his hole, pulled up and pushed back again, over and over. I was ostensibly the "top," but Dean was top in reality as he fucked himself on my dick. I was left to just watch him fuck himself on me. My dick would become almost fully exposed, and then disappear into his ass. Fucking awesome!

His ass devouring my dick in a smooth rhythm as far and hard back as he could was all too much. My muscles started to jerk, and an overwhelming electrical buzz increasingly drowned out every other sense until everything else in my brain was overtaken. I rolled forward on my toes, grabbed his hips and crushed my body into his gut and almost passed out from the orgasm that shot into him. I felt load after load after load shooting deep into Dean – "Dean" was all my mind would allow! In a low measured voice Dean softly said gasping for air, "fuck me" with each thrust of jiz into him. My whole body was jerking and trying to stroke, but it was no use trying. I felt my warm wet jiz inside Dean around my pulsing dick, as he felt the fullness, and cum pouring inside him. I finally had to bend forward atop his back and feel the warmth of my dick buried in his gut. I hugged and massaged his torso as my body involuntarily jerked and throbbed inside his ass.

As my knees began to shake, I had to pull out. As I slowly moved back and down onto my knees, I watched mesmerized as my load slowly dripped from his hole, running down the hair on the back of his legs. And, even though I had just unloaded the biggest load of my life, I was still consumed in lust, panting.

As Dean slowly let go of the wall and stood, I pulled myself up to yank him around to face me and went down on the penis I craved so long. Dean was still shaking in my mouth as I head-fucked his cock. He immediately began to jerk his cock down my throat. I vaguely remember his involuntary sounds of complete, intense orgasm with his thrusts as a river of cum began forcefully shooting down the back of my throat. All I could do was concentrate on swallowing fast enough to keep up. I don't have much of a gag reflex, but this was too much – too fast. I was drowning in cum. There was no logic to make me realize all I had to do was back away to keep from drowning. Instead, I began to panic, frantically swallowing as quickly as I could, to keep up, but it just kept coming, load after load. I couldn't suck, and there was no need. Keep swallowing; just swallow, I thought frantically. His thrusts then began forcing globs of white, hot cum from my mouth onto his pubes. I could feel all the wasted cum smeared on my face and smell it drenching his pubes.

When it finally stopped, we were both panting, unable to catch our breath. I tried to suck and lick it all up, but it was impossible. When Dean's spent cock became too sensitive to continue, I collapsed backward to lie on the wood floor, and Dean dropped down on top of me. We were both still so turned on that we kissed deeply and ground our naked dicks against each other, still shaking and panting. FUCK, it was unbelievable. All I wanted was for it to continue -- and it did. We were not through. We were still desperate to consume each other.

As we were finally beginning to catch our breath, I gently rolled Dean off of me. I turned the other direction and went down again on Dean's still throbbing cock. I concentrated hard and tried to give the best blow I know how, to give Dean all the pleasure I could. Dean took my still rock hard cock that had just fully fucked deeply into him and went down to complete the 69. Our attempts to physically consume each other were still frantic as if we were starting anew.

We were reaching the point that I never dreamed of experiencing – never new such a thing existed and could not comprehend the enormity of it at the time, although we were living it. We together – and only together -- were becoming what we were doing. Fully consuming each other now – again -- was our only fantasy as every inhibition from reality between us was vanquished. Our living a decade's fantasies dreaming and hoping and wishing for each other separately, which brought us to our countless orgasms individually, was now a reality as if all our countless orgasms apart were now compiled into just one together. Our togetherness in fantasy and reality was itself a supernal orgasm where time and place had no meaning.

The sides of our brains where logic resides were swamped in the river of cum we already placed into each other. I pulled Dean on top of me, his pants strapped across my chest. As Dean face-fucked the dick his ass had already fucked, I began to lick off my still-wet cum that had spilled onto his legs. My feet involuntarily tried to shed my pants from my ankles. Dean let my member drop from his mouth to complete making my lower body completely naked. I worked my way back up to his anus I fucked so well and licked all the spilt cum I could get, deeply eating his hole again. Dean pulled my freed legs up and apart and leaned in to eat my ass beautifully. We coiled together to have completely each other's hot holes. As we inevitably both reached the boiling point, we returned to the other's dicks and tried to savor each drop of the other from our unbelievably flaming, new orgasms together. Our chests heaved. Our bodies hurt. Our balls ached.

The reality of our together-orgasm all too quickly fell victim to human limitations. It ended, and I won't bore you with the rest.

So, was ten years apart of desperately wanting each other worth the wait for this brief time together? I vote yes but suppose that's really for you to decide.