Big Ben(d) Ch 02

Big Ben(d) Ch 02

Sam and Brock continue back home

All characters described in this story are over 18. © 2025, Brunosden, All rights reserved.

Sam and Brock, two twenty-something management trainees at Elon Oil have just finished a week-long bonding corporate retreat at Big Bend National Park. Brock initially presented himself as a seasoned bi-gay player and predator. That turned out to be a bit of an exaggeration. Sam on the other hand was an admitted and complete innocent. A virgin. And relatively passive. A few nights in a tent together changed all of that. Over a few days, they initiated each other into the pleasures of man on man sex, and opened the gates of passion. Some sex writing is just too serious. This chapter is just a joyous romp between two guys experimenting with each other after they crossed the threshold into male on male sex!

Sam's voice....

We arrived back in El Paso on Saturday afternoon. At least they allowed us to sleep on the way back. I gathered my duffel and threw it in the back of my SUV. By then many of the guys had driven off--but a few watched us carefully. They knew. And I was a little self-conscious about what they knew. As I did so, Brock walked up and handed me his cell. "Give me yours. Put your number in mine. By the way, where do you live?"

"I'm renting the casita of an older couple' house in the hills above town near the golf club--on a month to month basis. Not sure where I'll be by winter. Finance for Elon often means Houston or Dallas."

"I'm in Mission Hills--the new apartment complex, probably not far away from you. Come to dinner tomorrow."

I was amazed. And very pleased. My initiation into gay sex at the retreat might be moving toward full membership in the Big Bend Club. I noted that it wasn't a question, but a demand. "Sure. What can I bring?"

"There's a group barbeque station at the complex. I'll get the steaks. Mostly yourself--and your cute little butt. Maybe some beer and maybe some snacks. Casual, of course. Bring some work clothes for Monday morning. We may drink a lot--or maybe something else will come up to make us lose track of time. You won't want to have to drive home. See you at five, Sam."

Again, no requests; just demands. He handed me back my phone. Minutes later, before I could even get out of the company garage, I heard the ping. He had sent me a picture of his rock hard dick with the brief note, "Tomorrow, Dude. Keep it warm for me."

I spent the next 24 hours doing chores--laundry, shopping for the week, emptying the dishwasher, even vacuuming the dust (there had been another of those famous El Paso sandstorms while we were away and a fine grit had accumulated everywhere)--anything to take my mind off Brock--and that texted photo. He was not going to let me forget our few days together. Assuming that I would even consider it. One week had awakened a passion in me for dick that I would never have guessed in a million years. I was a card-carrying cock-hound, with the howls to prove it.

I even went to the gym and spent more than an hour on the machines, lifting, until I was sore. Over a hundred squats--half with weights. I showered at the gym where it was pretty deserted. But, I liked what I saw in the large mirrors. I was pumped, lean, tan and thought that I was a real hunk. I even did a bit of DIY grooming to frame the sculpture.

I got to Brock's place a little after five, with two six packs of cold Dos Equis, a coupl'a bags of Doritos--one lime, one bbq, corn, and a garment bag with a change of clothes. He met me at the door, casually dressed in shorts and a tee, barefoot. He was wet from a recent shower and looked good enough to eat on a stick. Particularly the inch and a half curly black locks. He looked like a Roman emperor--or a god. He pointed and I deposited the groceries on the counter and draped the bag over the stool. Then I turned as he scooped me into his arms and began a long passionate mouth duel. Two minutes later we had pulled tees over our heads. Only a day of stoked embers had already burst into flame. We were both animals. Knew exactly what we wanted. And fast.

He pushed me to the leather sofa--the only piece of furniture in the room other than a makeshift table of glass and blocks and a giant LED. As he lowered me down, his fingers gripped the waist band, and I was naked. By instinct, I spread. Sammy stood straight and tall, beaming with pride. He knelt, swept his tongue up the back of my shaft, bobbled my nuts in his fingers, and finally vacuumed my cock deep inside as my hands ruffled through his damp inky black locks. Sammy couldn't believe his luck. He too was going to enjoy this "cock-tail" party as much as I. He was hard within seconds and trying to take over the encounter. Pumping hard into Brock's hot talented mouth. Brock reached up again and pinched my nubs as that exquisite pain turned to exquisite pleasure. They were directly wired to my nuts.

It was so fast. So intense. So incredibly good. "You got me already, Brock. I'm cummin. Get ready." I tried to pull out, for courtesy, but he held me tight as I blasted a load until it dripped from his lips and his tongue emerged to sweep it all in. "Fuck, that was fast. Do you treat all your house guests with that kind of welcome?"

"Actually, you're my first houseguest. And I did tell you to bring the appetizers. My compliments to the chef! The nectar was first rate."

"Do you want me to do you now, stud?"

"No, I think I'll wait. I want to try denial."

I frowned. "Really? Where the fuck did that come from? Denial? You've got to be kidding. We're young guys. Denial? Really?" I reached over and fisted the bulge in his shorts, but he pushed me away.

"Be patient, boy. It'll only make it better. I'm sure you can wait at least fifteen minutes!!"

So I got up and pulled two beers before popping the rest in the frig. Then I moved back into the living room, decided not to dress, but instead took my place next to him on the leather. I placed his cold bottle on his balls, covered only in the light cotton knit of his shorts. He squealed, grabbed it from me. "Just you wait, Sam. I'm gonna rip you a new one. I'm trying to be a good host here--before I make you scream."

We quickly finished the first two cans as I complimented him on his choice of décor--and he punched me in the shoulder hard and lighter in the gut. Then, I got up and my fingers dipped into his waistband. He helped by rising from the cushion as I pulled his shorts away. In the dark of the tent and in those brief moments in the shower when he wasn't fully erect, I had guessed he was endowed. Now I had a chance for a close up inspection. I wasn't wrong. The txted photo was not shopped. And the pronounced bend of his erect dick gave him a unique look. But it was more like a plantain or a gourd than a banana--it was thicker and bigger. And I knew from our one experience, that we were made for each other--his bend was perfect for tapping my love nut. Destiny!

Then I moved in and straddled his lap. His lips moved to my tits and started to suck. I reached behind me and pulled his pole into my crack. He stroked up and down a few times. "Where's the lube?"

He pointed to the arm of the couch. "With the remote in the leather bag hanging over there."

I stretched over and liberated the generous tube. It was the large "family" size. "Optimistic, aren't we?"

"I was a boy scout, Sam." He held out his hand, and I squeezed a large dollop into it. Then I raised myself on my calves and spread. His fingers were doing their magic within seconds. We were so hungry for each other. Like fuckin' teenagers. We had flicked a few switches, and we were definitely fully-engaged sex machines.

After he had managed to get several lubed fingers deep inside, I felt him pull out. Then the lubed head touched.

"I'm ready, for Big Bend, Brock....shit, that's a real tongue-twister. After a few more beers, I'm not sure I'll be able to repeat. Put Big Bend in Brock. Or do you want to Bring Big Bend to Bed, Brock?" I chuckled at my really bad joke. But then, I felt the huge hard bulb (Big Bend's Bulb?) at my entrance. I stiffened. He pushed. And he was in. Big Bend's Bulb Burned for a Bit. (I've really got to stop this. I will. I promise.) Then a wave of pleasure flooded through me. I Bounced on Big Bend's Bulb (Sorry, I couldn't resist.) and he penetrated enough that the pronounced bend in his dick swiped my love nut. It sent a jolt of electricity through me. I collapsed into his chest as he began the relentless thrusting that would Bring Big Bend's Bulb to the Bottom. (I promise, no more.)

Brock moved to stretch out on the sofa so that he could give me a proper ride. He got leverage and started to thrust his eight incher deep and hard, hitting the nut with every pass. Again, it only took a few minutes. "I'm blasting, Sam." He used his powerful thighs to reach deep inside and loft us both from the cushion as I fell into his chest. He planted deep and started to fill me with his spunk. Another big load of hot creamy stuff. My hands went around his neck and I pulled in as our lips met. Sammie stretched out his neck and deposited another load between us. Then he released the tension and fell back to the couch, holding me tight to his hard body. His thick dick plugging his spunk inside.

Later, still nude, we sat back to talk. Or rather I sat back and he sat in my lap. He immediately begin teasing a nipple with a few talented fingers. Fuck, he was a sex machine. "I can't believe that only a week ago, we had never tried this! What wasted years."

We provided a little more back story on our families--much more than the 30-minute quiz/discussion on the bus headed toward Big Bend.

Brock was one of two boys--his brother older, already married and with a kid, living in Memorial, northwest of downtown Houston, a few miles from his folks. His Dad was a doc, orthopedist, at Methodist. His mother was now engaged as a professional party planner--after giving years as a volunteer at various charity galas. They were both deeply embedded in Houston society and pillars of Second Baptist. He had played baseball, lacrosse and hockey. His riding experience came from an uncle's ranch about an hour north of the city. But his real passion was skiing--four, five times a year. He had majored in business at UT and fallen in love with Austin. Not sure how he had ended up in El Paso--with no ski slopes within miles! He had never given any inkling to his folks that he was interested in boys. Although several of his ski bum friends had incredible butts encased in those spandex ski pants. And he had been tempted, but didn't follow through.

"I've got one more confession--not that we're such good friends. I set you up on the retreat. While she wasn't looking, I noted the pairings on the bus--that would determine tent partners. I watched your number as you boarded--and I stood back to be sure that I drew 11, your partner's number. I've been stalking you for more than a month, Sam. I love guys with long blonde hair--particularly if they've got a surfer body to go with it."

So there had been two deceits. Our meeting on the retreat wasn't accidental. And his professed experience before the retreat had been a lie. We were equals--both inexperienced guys who had been awakened to sex and each other--for only a week. I guess I was a little flattered. Fuck, he had stalked me!! And seduced me!!

"I think I better head down with the steaks. We need sustenance for what I've got planned for later. I want to hear your true confession."

"As I said, optimistic. But, I have to admit. I feel every bit the same way. Stalk or not. I'm glad to be the target of your chase. And I'm really not so sure the seduction was entirely one way. I'm in lust with your bod, Brock. And with Big Bend!"

He socked me playfully and pulled on his shorts to make the trip down to the grills. "Adjust that dick. Put on a shirt, boy. I'm not sharing you with anybody else tonight! You are a fuckin' animal in heat. And I can still see the bedlust in your eyes. Are you sure you shouldn't shower first--you smell like just-warm sex. Anybody at the pit would jump you if you show up like that." He grabbed his cock through the silky shorts and wagged it at me.

"He's all yours boy. At least for tonight. I plan to take up residence in that ass." But, he did pull on a tee that was at least two sizes too small.

I set the table, put the corn on to cook, pulled on the shorts, and went into the "guest" room--one I probably would not occupy that night--to hang my bag. It was filled with Brock--sports trophies, several sets of skis, poles and boots, hockey sticks, tennis rackets, Frisbees, a football. There was barely room for the single bed. Then I peeked into his room and noted the giant king bed, carefully made up--presumably for my benefit. Two photos on the dresser, presumably his folks and his brother and family. It had a large stall shower and no tub. Real bachelor pad. But, it had everything we'd need.

*******

Later, after we had shared one steak (they were so large that we decided to keep one for breakfast), corn and a few more brews, we moved back to the playpen a.k.a. sofa.

I talked a little about my family. I was an only child. But, I had been raised with a dozen cousins on ranches which spread around the County near ours. Lots of open range. On horseback most days. A loner. Mom kept the house while Dad mostly used his time tracking the family trust investments and the income from the oil and gas royalties. Not really a full time job. So, he had a hobby. He had equipped the barn as a world-class wood working shop, and he made furniture, really unique works of art, that had been shown and sold in one of the big Dallas art galleries. His order book was typically full a year or two into the future. I sort of hinted that I had helped a bit and really enjoyed making things.

"I was a virgin until I met you, Brock. And I doubt my folks could even conceive that I'd be into guys."

"Now I think I understand. You must think I'm a heathen living in a cave. Am I forgiven for this ridiculous excuse for an apartment?"

"No problem. The apartment is okay. I've seen the bed. And as long as it "cumswith" you, nothing else matters, bro."

"I was hoping you had explored while I was grilling. Let's give it a whirl." He smiled, stood, took my hand and led me to the bedroom. He pulled down the coverlet--where he had placed a couple of towels. "I'm guessing we're sleeping on this tonight and laundry is one of my least favorite occupations." Then he stripped and stood back, legs spread akimbo, hands crossed and pushing up his bis and tris. He was truly a work of art--like one of those statuettes they give winners--except for the pronounced bend. "Well, I'm waiting, babe. Show me what you've got--again. I can't get enough." It took me only seconds to slip out of the shorts and tee. When I did, I loosed the band holding my six inch dirty blonde hair. "Fuck, I love that hair--even mussed, it's so sexy. Almost as much as that ass. And that dick." He stepped into me and wound his fist into my hair and pulled me into his face. We fell into the bed and rolled around, clutching, squeezing, penetrating, tightening and sucking.

Minutes later we were both incredibly hot and hard. He released at one point, and I rolled onto my belly, and pushed up on my knees. "It's time. I wanna feel Big Bend deep inside."

Brock wasted no time. He knelt between my spread legs and I felt the coolness of the lube as a finger began to tease me open. He circled the rim several times until I groaned and pushed back into him. Then the tip plunged. Deepened. In less than a minute, there were two, scissoring, twirling and expanding, but avoiding the nut. It felt so good to be totally open to another guy. All the taboos and restrictions had evaporated. Somehow he sensed that I was already so close. I felt his strong warm skier's thighs against mine; then the head of his shaft. It didn't take much. He had done his work well. It popped in as Brock steadied me with his hands on my hips and froze.

No pain at all, despite his size. Just a welcome stretch. I turned my face toward him and signaled. He bent forward, took my lips lightly; then he whispered, "You are so fuckin' tight. But, I've gotta get in there." So he applied a little more pressure and deepened. Fuck, I was so full already, and he had just started.

We continued for some minutes. I pushed back into him, and he thrust forward into me. Reveling in the pressure on my nut. Then I felt his balls bounce off mine. He was in. All the way. He had bottomed. Fuck! A guy's dick was deep inside me again. There was no suggestion of aggression. Or of trickery. I had cum over to his place wanting this. I couldn't believe how good it felt. How complete I felt. How totally stuffed! And the nut--it was tight against his thick dick radiating pleasure waves. Life is so fuckin' good.

Brock withdrew Ben repeatedly and plunged, sending electric shocks up my spine and into my gut with each thrust. He had reached around and was holding me tight to him--both hands were gripping my shaft and balls. Suddenly, he sat back on his haunches and drew me upright into his lap. One hand released my aching balls and moved to my throat to pull me around. Our lips met. Our tongues dueled. And his hand pressed on my windpipe. I was totally his. Under his complete control. Anything.

But, it was the end--or at least the beginning of the end. My dick spasmed in his fist, and shot onto the towel. When I orgasmed, I tensed every muscle, including those holding Ben inside. That pushed him over. I felt the hot splat of his cum in my gut. Followed by another. And another. I shot again. Then, he released my throat, and moved the fingers of his cum-filled hand to my lips. I sucked them in and tasted. With his muscular chest pushed us both to the bed. A wad of my viscous shiny cum was sitting on the towel, within inches of my nose. It was all I could breathe--after being deprived of breath by his hand on my throat snd his fingers in my mouth. My own musk permeated my breath. It was the most intense moment of my life. I had never before felt so alive. So totally vibrating with my sexuality--and with his.

He held me to the bed for minutes as several of his aftershocks deposited still more inside me.

"Fuck, that was so incredible! Sam, you are so incredible." His legs and arms spread; then cocooned me tightly, wrapping me inside, taking control of my body...and my soul.

I think we must have dozed--or perhaps we were anesthetized by the musky aromas that surrounded us--and a few minutes passed. Finally, I realized that I needed to breathe. I pounded a few times on the pillow and stirred him. He rolled over, Big Bend still half-inflated and with that unique bend that pointed back at me. Ben was showing off. It was like he was boasting to bystanders of his recent conquest. "See, that's the ass I just plundered. Isn't it beautiful? It's mine now. Anytime I want it."

I shivered at his intensity. Fuck, we had known only each other. And only for a little over a week. It's too soon--or maybe the intensity is directly the result of it being so soon. And my first!

We talked more at that point. About nothing and about everything. Then, Brock announced it was time for me to do the honors. He rolled to his side and threw his right left forward, exposing his target. The bubbled butt was incredible and those ski-developed tree-trunk thighs were all ropey muscles. I moved in, used my tongue and fingers as I would never before have thought possible. Then I took him slowly, very slowly, sliding into his center, savoring every thrust, loving every minute while my fist was stroking his shaft. We both blasted again. But, definitely the quantity was reduced. We had managed over several hours to drain each other totally. By then, it was late. And we both had important days tomorrow--the first days back at HQ after the retreat. The days when we would be given our first permanent assignments.