I Can't Breathe

The winters in Ohio can get pretty brutal.

I sat at a red light watching the snow fly, my wipers beat a fast tempo in an attempt to keep up with the white stuff. I gazed into the murky twilight hoping that the photographer would still be there. I was late, as usual, and had little time left to get my passport photo taken. With the total fuck-up of the state department, time constraints were now prohibitive.

My name is Allan. I go by Allan even though my first name is Lawrence. L. Allen Emirich is a respectable moniker for the busines world. It was just one more thing that made me a corporate whore. I was five years post- MBA at The Ohio State University and using it to bash rivals over the head on my way to the top. The two years I had spent as an intern at my current employer led me to become their golden boy upon graduation. Five more years and I was sent to my hometown as V.P. of acquisitions and expansion for the conglomerate. I didn't worry too much about the shit heads left in my wake. "Get out of my way or get stepped on." was my motto. You probably think I am an egomaniac, but I am proud of my accomplishments. I suppose I sound driven. I am. Not so long ago I was a scrawny kid from the wrong side of the tracks, giving blowjobs to married men for money to buy school clothes. Don't get me wrong. My family was and is a good one, just economically challenged. I took that scrawny cocksucking kid and built him into a handsome, physically fit, 29 year old King Of The World. Of course, I was still a cocksucker. Some things never change.

The light turned green as I readjusted my ample package of hung man. Did I forget to tell you about my nine inch cock? Surprising, apart from my personal metamorphasis and business accomplishments, it is the thing I am most proud of. I drove through the light looking for the sign of the portrait studio. Cindy, my secretary, told me they closed at seven. I was cutting it close.

On the right, the sign for Raber's Photography Studio appeared. I quickly entered the strip mall and found a parking space in the nearly deserted lot. I parked next to a vintage black 1979 Monte Carlo, a car that would have given me a towering hardon in high school. Hell, it still caused a chub.

I was glad to see that the lights were still on through the wind-whipped snow. I regretted that I did not have time for a smoke before I went in. I didn't smoke in my new Cadillac. I exited my power chariot and pulled the collar of my black, silk-lined London Fog overcoat around my face. I felt the soft wool against my cheek as I ran to the entrance of the studio.

Inside, I felt the welcoming heat envelop me. I shook my coat of any remaining moisture and hung it on a coat tree. I looked down to see my Gucci loafers caked in grime from the dirty snow that exists in any winter climate. I wiped them on a red runner that was put inside the door for that reason.

The reception area was deserted. The walls were mounted by many examples of the studio's work. I could see that someone was quite talented. The quality of the photographs was more than wedding, bar mitzvah, or graduation fare. Some of them were nearing the kind of photographs one might find in any good gallery. I perused the photos, waiting for someone to acknowledge my presence. I meandered around the room until I found one black and white photo of a man looking off into the distance. His body was startling. I have a nice toned physique, but this guy was in a league of his own. The neck was sturdy with veins running down to broad, sculptured shoulders. The shoulders melded into his pecs, almost as if they were one. The pecs were so defined that they cast a shadow on eight of the most perfectly defined abs on the face of the Earth. The V-shape of his torso ended at a pairs of jeans that looked painted on. The thighs bulged as if barely contained. The jeans creased from the hip to a prominent bulge in the front. The bulge was so prominent that the waistline of the jeans dipped below a small treasure trail that ended above one undone button of the fly. Next to the fly lay hands inserted into the pockets. The hands led to bulging forearms that formed a perfect segue to the vein encrusted biceps. There was only a hint of hair under his arms, everywhere else was smooth sailing.

"That's me."

I turned around to see a face smiling from across the room. I looked at him and then at the face in the photo for the first time (sorry, never got that far). They were similar. The one in the picture looked younger and familiar, while the one in person was more rugged and held two beautiful shining brown eyes.

"Did you take it?" I asked, still gazing at photo.

"A long time ago when I was in High School. One of those self-portrait projects. I thought it was pretty good." He said, looking at me questioningly.

I had to agree, it was pretty good.

"Hey don't I know you?" He asked, causing me to leave the God in the photo and deal with the present.

"Allan Emirich." I said, holding out my hand in greeting.

"Mark Raber." He said, taking my hand.

Oh My God. Mark Raber, as in Mark Raber the most popular guy in my high school? Mark Raber, as in the hottest thing this town produced since Lillian Gish? Mark Raber, as in my classmate who inhabited all my teenage jackoff fantisies? I looked into his eyes and he held the gaze a little longer than I usually found comfortable. I let go of his hand and couldn't believe my nervousness. I was King Of The World, I was Master Of The Universe, I was Conqueror Of All. I was a teen-ager in serious rut over this guy's body.

I can't breathe.

I wonder how someone so together could become unhinged over the presence of another person. I had to remind myself that I was not that scrawny teenager blowing strangers for change. I was me. That was enough.

"Sure you know me." I said, trying to sound casual. "My first name is Larry, I go by my middle."

"Oh yeah, Larry Emirich. I remember. Good to see you again. Wow, you've changed." He said, casting an appraising gaze over me.

"I guess. It has been over ten years." I replied, enjoying the attention. Could he be looking at me as an equal? Not some fawning, gushy loser, craving even a small acknowlegement of my existence.

"Yeah, I guess it has. It looks like life has been good to you." He offered, sticking his hands into his pockets and parting his legs into a triangle stance with the floor.

"It has. Looks like you have a nice business here." I allowed, gazing into his lipid brown pools. What a powerful thing it is to look into another man's eyes and see him looking back at you.

"Thanks, What can I do for you?" He asked, snapping me out of my interlude.

"I need a passport picture." I replied.

"I don't blame you, fucked-up time to be here anyway." He said, nodding to the weather.

"Unfortunately, I won't be leaving until spring."

"Yeah, I heard it can be a real bitch getting a passport right now."

"You do take passport pictures?" I asked, wishing this repartee could go on forever, but anxious to see what else would happen.

"Sure." He replied. "Just follow me."

Mark turned to walk to the back of the studio. My eyes instantly followed his back down to a gorgeous bubble butt that did incredible things to the khakis he was wearing. I memorized the rise and fall of his powerfully muscled ass as he led the way to where he would take my picture.

"Just stand there and let me get a straight on view." He said, instructing me to stand before a white screen. I stood straight, wondering if the camera would catch the lust in my eyes. Mark looked through the camera and then approached me.

"Put your head back like this." He said, touching my chin and lifting. I almost came in my pants. He moved my head around a couple of times until he was satisfied. I could smell his scent, somewhat spicy and masculine. My mouth watered.

I'd like to say that he threw me to the floor, but he didn't. He was professional and quick with the tedious chore. When he finished, I followed that magnificent ass to the front of the store.

"Sorry, I kept you so late." I apologized, offering my credit card for payment.

"No problem man, nothing else going on." He said, taking my AMEX. This was my chance. Did I dare? Of course I did.

"Would you like to go get a drink or something?" I asked taking back my card and inserting it into my wallet.

Mark smiled and handed me the receipt to sign. "Sounds great." He replied. "Just let me close this puppy down."

I donned my coat and walked outside to wait for him. I lit a cigarette with shaky hands. I looked at the hushed surroundings that only those who have been in a northern climate can appreciate. The hushed sounds of a city after the snow. I smoked my cigarette and waited for Mark to finish. He exited the studio and locked the door.

"Just what I needed. Got a light?" Mark asked, holding a cigarette to his succulent lips. I brought out my lighter and offered him the flame. He cupped his hands around the end and sucked. I could see his handsome face illuminated by the fire as he lit his cigarette. Even the way he lit his cigarette was infused with testosteronic sexiness.

We finished our smoke and decided to go to a small bar in the strip mall. Rather than drive, we walked to the place. There weren't many people out on such a dismal night, so we were pretty much alone. We both ordered a beer and caught up on our lives. Mark told me about his failed marriage to one of the high school cheerleaders. What a bitch (and a fool), I thought. I told him about my rise in the corporate world and my ambitions. Mark wanted nothing more than to take his pictures and live in our small town, 'with periodic excursions to take pictures and you know.' He explained.

"Where do you go?" I asked, just enjoying our close proximity.

"I like Key West. I like San Francisco." He replied, smiling a crooked gaze. The beer was getting to both of us. I smiled back and allowed that I enjoyed both Key West and San Fran.

After a few more beers, we decided to go outside to smoke. In this day and age, the powers that be won't allow smoking even in a bar. Idiots.

Standing outside we lit up and Mark asked if I was seeing anyone.

"Just me." I answered, holding out my hand with fingers splayed.

"Know the feeling." Mark chuckled dangling his cigarette from his mouth and stretching his six foot frame. I couldn't help but gawk at his incredible manliness. His shirt rose as he stretched. I could see his flat stomach and exposed waist. It was almost more than I could bare, so to speak. I saw him look at me through slitted eyes as the cigarette smoke swirled up the cigarette to his handsome face.

"Wanna blow this joint?" Mark asked.

Did I ever, but I had the sense to think before I spoke. Of course I would blow his joint. Anytime.

"Okay. Where do you want to go?' I asked.

"I live down the block, come on over if you want to." He offered.

"Sure." I replied, monosyllabism was my salvation.

Mark and I walked back towards the only two cars in the parking lot. The cherry Monte Carlo was obviously his.

"Living out glory days?" I asked, nodding to the beautiful machine.

"I'll show you glory days Pal." Mark laughed getting into the car.

We drove quickly to a large victorian house. There were many in our town and they could be had cheaply. The house was obviously cared for and looked like something out of Currier and Ives with the fresh snow surrounding it. I parked my car behind Mark's and followed him to the door. He unlocked it and led me inside.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll get us a beer." Mark instructed.

I walked around and looked at the tasteful photographs that abounded in the house. They were beautiful and obviously private. There were some landscapes and more interestingly nudes. I was stopped by a sepia print of a magnificent hard cock. Around the cock lay sparse pubic hair, just tendrils obviously wet. Drops of water sparkled on the flesh and accentuated the supple feeling of the photo. I felt myself go hard instanly.

"That's my neighbor. We took that one in the hot tub." Mark explained, handing me a beer. "He just graduated last week and that's part of his graduation present."

It took everything not to ask what the other part was.

"Some of this stuff is pretty homoerotic." I observed, fishing for more.

"Beauty is beauty." Mark stated, simply. "Would you like to smoke some weed?"

I don't usually smoke weed. I had surpassed the ceiling that random urinalysis may be required, but it was not something I did much. But, with Mark, I was ready.

We sat in his living room and smoked a bong. Mark loaded and loaded as we talked and smoked. I could feel myself relaxing under the effect of the drug. My inhibitions lowered and I became exponentially hornier. Mark was also feeling the effects. He lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

"Why weren't we better friends back in school?" Mark asked, one hand and arm flung over his head the other rubbing his belly.

"I don't know, just different crowds I guess." I replied, smelling his intoxicating aroma. "But we can be friends now."

"For sure." Mark agreed. "Do you want to get in the hot tub. It feels great when you're high."

"Yeah, that sounds good." I slurred.

I followed Mark through a darkened dining room and kitchen. The hot tub was obviously at the back of the house. He stripped as he went. I took off my suit coat and tie, then unbuttoned my shirt. I watched Mark as he stopped by a set of french doors and lowered his pants. I gaped at his ass enmeshed in boxer/briefs. What a delectable sight.

"It's pretty private, so I go bareass." Mark assured me.

In for a penny, in for a pound was my thought. Nothing was going to stand in the way of my seeing Mark naked.

"I'll turn it on." Mark said. He certainly did, I thought as I peeled away my pants and walked outside in my boxers, shivering slightly. The air was cold but my horniness abated but a little.

The cover off, the hot tub steamed into the night. Mark started the jacuzzi and pulled down his underwear. He stood up and stepped out of them, pulling on his nutsack and dick as he pushed them aside. I stood in awe of his chiseled physique. The torso of the studio picture was there, just meatier. The torso ended in a perfect saddle that was encased by well-defined thighs. Mark obviously trimmed his pubes. The silky brown hairs sat above a majestic cock of impressive proportions. It looked to be about five inches soft and cut. It nestled on a nutsack that held two chestnut-sized balls. Mark's cock and balls hung almost level. The symmetry was breathtaking.

I tried to take off my shorts and get in before Mark could see my aroused state. But, it was not to be.

"Nice meat you're carrying." Mark observed, assessing my pride and joy.

"Thanks, I grew it myself." I quipped. "You're not doing so bad yourself."

"Thanks, must be the water hereabouts." Mark joked as we entered the cauldron. The heat of the water combined with the buzz made speaking unnecessary. Mark and I luxuriated in the swirling bath for awhile.

"I'm going for a beer. Do you want one?" Mark asked.

"Mmmmm." I mumbled, unable to verbalize anything at the moment.

I watched Mark alight from the tub. He sported partial wood. His cock looked even better if that were possible. He returned with two beers and a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He handed me one and sipped from his own.

"Do you wanna share this smoke?" He asked.

"Sure, but my hands are wet." I answered.

"Here, I'll hold it for you." Mark said as he approached me from across the hot tub. He held the smoke out with two fingers and put it to my mouth. Instead of releasing it, Mark held on. I drew in on the cigarette, watching the cherry flare in the cold night air. I could feel Mark's fingers on my sensitive lips. I dared a taste of them. The light from the end of the smoke fell on Mark's dick floating parallel in the water. His cock bobbed on the crescent of the bubbles. I pulled away, but Mark stayed and put the cigarette to his own lips. I watched his cock as it rolled with the current. He held the smoke out to my lips again and I sucked on the end of it. I looked up to look into his eyes. He stared down at me sucking on the end of the cigarette, almost daring me to do it. I released the smoke, keeping the eye contact. Mark nodded imperctively, urging me on.

That was it.

I devoured the end of Mark's cock. I felt the head and glans rub over my tongue. I sucked slightly, but not too aggressively, enjoying the feel of this man's cock in my mouth. Mark moved closer and rocked his hips into my face. I looked up at him watching me. His eyes were serious and he was enthralled as I pulled him in until my chin rested between his balls. I could feel Mark's dick growing as it forced my jaws farther apart with each lunge, deeper and deeper in my throat. I suppose cocksucking is like riding a bike. When you're good, you're good. I pulled Mark's cock from my mouth to get a better look at it. The head of his cock was remarkable. It was anchored at the bottom of his piss slit and proceeded up and back to the crest of the flanged head, like a cap worn at a rakish angle. A couple inches down the circumcision scar begged to be kissed. The cock widened at the base so that overall it appeared as a torpedo.

Long. Sleek. Fat. Hard.

The length of Mark's cock was not quite mine, but it wouldn't take much more to be there. The girth was that of a large deli pickle. I kissed his joystick and fondled his balls. I revelled in Mark's cock. He insistantly hammered away at my face with his body as I suckled his balls, rolling them in my mouth and weighing them with my tongue. The hairs on his loose sack ran through my teeth and tickled the roof of my mouth as I nibbled the silky flesh.

Mark's insistent hammering made me engulf his engorged dick. Nothing else mattered but this wonderful cock. I took it down my throat until my nose rammed into his pubis, pulled back until his glans rested on my lower lip, over and over. The feeling was incredible and I guess for Mark, from the moans, he was pleased. I continued my assault as I felt Mark lean over and grab my turgid pole in his hand. His touch was like an electric shock. He grasped my rigidity with authority as I humped into his grip.

"Fuck." Mark whispered as he pulled me up to him. He planted his lips on mine. I opened them to his invading tongue. He licked and sucked my lips and tongue as if they were catching the next train out. It was as if there just wasn't enough of me to kiss. I returned Mark's ardor with my own passion. We grunted and groaned as we made a meal of each other's mouth. The frenzy of our mutual passion was animal.

Mark pulled away, planting kiss after kiss to my face, neck and chest. He would lick my nipple then bite and blow in my ear. I was high on Mark, heading for an overdose. The abandon that Mark showed was the best aphrodisiac any man could endure. He ground into my body, mashing our cocks together, as he licked and kissed me to overload. Mark blazed a trail with his tongue down my chest and stomach, arriving at ground zero. My cock strained and bobbed with my runaway pulse. All nine inches begged him to suck it. He did. Mark took my cock into his mouth and swallowed me. He rotated his head when I bottomed out in his throat, causing me to feel his tonsils with my engorged dick. He attacked my cock as if he needed it for his very survival. He was rough and urgent, I loved it. I wondered how long anyone could last under such an onslaught. I pulled away only to have Mark spin me around and push me over. I felt him pry my cheeks apart. I could hear him puffing away as his breath came in gasps. Mark dove into my ass with his tongue. He had my hole, it could take all the kissing and licking he cared to share. And share he did. Mark made love to my ass like a wild boar. I trembled and quaked as he stuck his tongue so far into me I thought I could french him with my mouth closed. It was obvious that I was ready for anything. Letting Mark take the lead was a wonderful feeling for one who is so unwilling to give up control.