I was lying in bed next to Hoffner. He had just finished making sweet love to me and I was lying on his silver haired chest, slowly and softly, licking his soft pink nipples. Our legs were entwined, his large, powerful hand, caressing and squeezing my balls. We had been seeing a lot more of each other, meeting in hotels or at his place when his wife was out or away. They weren't intimate anymore, so it made it easier to meet at his place, than mine. I had to admit it; I was in love with him.
His scent; a masculine combination of lemony musk, and pure manly aroma made my head burn with blood, my heart pound, my legs tremble, my cock balls ache for his strong hands. He could touch me and I would quiver in heat, like an anxious dog. His sky blue eyes, thick white moustache and soft delicate lips would kiss me so strongly I thought I would pass out from the intensity of it. When he held me, it was firm and delicate at the same time. Sometimes we would strip down naked and hold each other, slowly rubbing against each other, kissing, caressing, and building into a slow, wet orgasm that was more love than sex, more beauty than anything I had ever experienced. We would stay locked together our juices running all over our bodies, a delicious sweat, coating us in a luscious sheen of romance and lust.
I couldn't keep my hands off his legs and balls, they were like treasures, large round, pink, full of cum and smooth as his beautiful ass. My favorite thing was to slowly savour and lick all around, top and bottom, up and under in the crevice between his thigh and balls, sucking each one like a fine Chinese dumplin. Chewing gently and swallowing each ball all the way up to his pulsing hot shaft, warmly rolling my tongue and mouth around and breathing in the thick aromatic maleness of him.
He had very strong legs with thick powerful thighs, a soft down of white hair, carpeting them from thigh to calf. Just underneath the slight crevice where his ass met his legs, was where I had started shaving him. The first time he was reluctant, but immediately turned on, once he felt my soft touch trailing slowly up the curvature of his bum, lightly caressing the soft fold where his ass curved in to his rectum. I had shaved him all the way right down and around his sweet pink hole, and my finger re-traced the path, till it lingered, teasing and turning and finally brushing slowly over his smooth hole. He shook and trembled and moaned and I knew there would be no more questions about the merits of a good Brazilian and a shaving of the balls. We decided to keep a nice manly patch as he called it of white pubic hair around the top of cock and up into his upper thigh. All the hair on his thick shaft was gone and he loved it when I took my mouth slowly down his smooth shaft all the way to the hilt. He was shaving and waxing regularly now, and the touch, the feel, the sensation of his smooth pink balls and ass was incredible. We had sex so much we were insatiable. Two, three, sometimes four times in a row, for hours, kissing, sucking, fucking each other into exhaustion and then always this, rhapsodic bliss, a sweet surrender into each others arms, warm in the glow and aroma of our sex. It enveloped us in an aura of pure love, that many years ago I would have thought strange, perverted, wrong, and weak.
Now I knew the power of admittance and acceptance and living as you are. All the spent years of my youth and adulthood lusting after men, with a hunger so deep it almost consumed me, made me mad at times, crazed with a fire in me that was so strong it was unquenchable save for surrender to it.
I knew it from a young age, and yet lived in ignorance, only knowing, that I couldn't stop myself from looking, always looking at first, boys my age, then men, older men, mostly, grey haired, blue eyed and fantasizing, that I was theirs to fuck into perpetuity.
As a young man, I liked the Levis' chords. They seemed to form the perfect union between hot young male flesh and tight pants. I can still picture the balls hanging over the zipper, cocks bulging tight against the thin chords. Adidas shorts held a particular attraction. They were always very short and very tight and leaving nothing to the imagination. The outline of balls and cock were clearly and vividly highlighted by the distinctive tight cotton and three striped sides. Each short had its own underwear sewn in, an ingenious cradle for the basket of youth and horny adolescent men that were suspending their jewels in front of my lustful eyes, every day. When I was lucky, I could catch a glimpse of a set of balls hanging out the side of shorts, with a leg hitched high or sitting in the grass innocently spreading wide for my admiring eyes and aching loins.
I began to notice that I was lusting after everything it seemed.
I knew a particularly nice set of balls and a beautiful ass, strong muscular legs, a very good looking young man. We slept together regularly in our underwear only. There was touching throughout the night as I rolled through a listless sleep, with my erect cock stiff and leaking pre-cum and angst. My hand would wander and touch, always in hasty retreat and under high anxiety at getting caught. I cupped his balls in the dark, feeling the deep warmth of his balls, slipping slowly under the bikini waste band, gently lifting and carefully extending a finger to lightly caress silky pubes and soft round balls. Stroking the soft skin underneath the head of his cock, I felt the stiffening and pulled away in fear that the nocturnal arousal would awaken him and expose my forbidden lust.
