Male Delivery by Barringer

This is the story of a gay guy who went straight off the rails. He succumbed to social pressure and married the boss's daughter and then passed through some very dry, fallow ground. Thankfully it didn't last long and his libidinous organs were soon looking for new fertile pastures. Preferably male. By the way, I'm the gay guy in case you haven't guessed that already.

I suppose marriage is a mistake lots of people make. We see too many movies, read too many books and believe our parents too much. I discovered -- too late -- that amongst other things it's a process in which your weakest points are inevitably revealed. After only a few days in the hay with my wife I found I was missing what you might call camp site bonding. The longing for male company and the flick of a wet towel and the sight of a juicy dick again. Also I discovered how vindictive the weaker sex can sometimes be. Times have changed and women are liberated but that still doesn't protect you from being needled and prodded and bodkined as in days of yore. Especially when they're not getting what they want out of the marriage. I mean some women seem to need a child like a driveway needs cement. Well-meaning friends told me 'you have to work at it to make it work' but that was like prescribing exercise to someone who felt exhausted all the time. So in the end I decided to call it a day and let my wife file for divorce. That's how I met Doug. He was the guy who brought me the registered letters and left his stamp on my butt.

Doug was manna from heaven and completely unexpected. Although of course I'd been secretly praying for someone like him to enter my life. "Be careful what you pray for," my fundamentalist mother had once told me, "You may get more than you bargain for." I hadn't been lucky so far but maybe that was my fault. Born and bred in Boston I was so uptight and formal I was bordering on British. I so much didn't want the other guy to know I was gay that I raised an impregnable defence wall that only the most determined were able to penetrate. Those that did were much older than me and the experiences I'd had were rather one-sided. Some guys make love like they drive a car. They forget there are two more gears available and race their engine in second so it's all over before you hear the screeching of brakes. Of course others take you at cruising speed for a long coastal ride and before you know it you fall in love with the scenery. Others equate happiness with a penis.

I had a French boyfriend when I was a student in Paris. He would crack me up as I cracked him open because he'd pronounce both in exactly the same way. "You fill my life with a penis," he'd say, dropping the aitch, as the French tend to do, and punctuating our love making with guttural sounds, gyrating his ass until I felt like I was fucking a bucking bronco. I never took it in the ass. That would have made me gay I thought so I fooled myself by always being the macho man on top. Shortly afterwards I went to San Francisco but my uptight Bostonian ways did not go down very well in Castro. I saw a new production of a very depressing play called 'Boys in the Band' which contained the classic line: "Show me a happy homosexual and I'll show you a gay corpse." So I decided to try matrimony. Now I was on the rebound. Footloose and fancy free and ready for Doug.

It was mid-May and spring had almost sprung although it had been a long time coming that year. Even so I'd been out running early morning and late afternoon and working out every day so I was brimming with good health and had muscles to die for as they say. Who I was preparing them for I didn't know yet but I was determined to get laid before the month was out. In the middle of my workout the house resounded with the Chinese chimes Barbara had insisted on installing. It was the mail man - mail boy actually - slim and trim in his tight fitting little uniform. I immediately wanted to get him out of it and devour him on the spot. All that abstinence and denial was having a heady effect on me. Although I was sweating from my physical exertions I acted cool, calm and collected and invited him over the doorstep so I could sign his receipt board.

As I did so I took off my t-shirt and used it as a towel to wipe off the sweat. It was a deliberate action as I wanted him to see how well stacked I was. Wanted to gauge his reaction too. His eyes seemed to lap up my biceps and pecs but that might just have been wishful thinking. I didn't want to proposition him so just asked if he was new to the job as I hadn't seen him around before.

"I'm in training," he said.

"So am I," I said flexing my muscles and smiling. I was so brazen I surprised myself.

I took the big, bulky envelopes from him. They contained my divorce papers.

"I'm getting a divorce," I said rather unnecessarily as the facts were written all over the envelopes.

"I've just split up with my girlfriend," he said as if to console me.

"Women suck sometimes," I said but he didn't rise to the bait. How could I expect him to.

There was a horny hiatus in the air. He was about to go. It was now or never.

"Want to come round for a beer after you finish work so we can compare notes?"

"Ok," he said. "I get off at five."

"Great," I said as if I made dates with twenty-year-old twinks every day. "See you then."

I was shaking like the proverbial leaf when I closed the door and watched his tight little ass going down my driveway to the van that was waiting for him. So he wasn't alone. I sure hoped I hadn't aroused the other guy's suspicions. My sexual hunger had made me unusually daring. He was too appetising to resist. His butt was like two juicy apples and I knew if I played my cards right they wouldn't be too far out of reach. Otherwise why would he have accepted my invitation.

As 5 o'clock ticked round I felt like the wolf waiting for Red Riding Hood. I'd showered and shaved and dressed carefully and made myself look as laid back as possible. It was past six by the time he arrived and I was beginning to think he wasn't coming. I was still shaking. I really didn't know how I was going to proceed or where all this was going to lead. I almost regretted asking him over. Those deafening chimes went again. Their death toll reminded me I was still officially married. "Keep your cool, Barringer," I said to myself as I invited him in.

We sat down in the kitchen as it was the coolest place in the house. And also the most neutral.

"Tell me about your girlfriend," I said to break the ice. So he did. In fact he told me much more than I expected him to on our first meeting. Just like me he obviously wanted to unload himself. Only I wanted to do it in a slightly different way. Seems they'd had fallen out over condoms and she didn't want to take the pill.

"It makes her bloat, she said."

"You can always use a rubber," I told him.

"She's afraid it will come off inside her. You see I sometimes lose my erection when I enter her."

I couldn't believe I was having this confidential conversation with this cute twink.

It was like I was his elder brother or something. Or worse still, his father.

"Let's change the subject," I suggested.

So we started talking about my biceps which wouldn't you know brought us round full circle and we were talking about dicks again.

"I really envy you those muscles," he said. " I'm so skinny."

"Muscles aren't everything," I said. "Anyway the important one is between your legs."

"Nobody's ever complained about that," he said. " I'm pretty well equipped in that department."

So then of course I knew he had a big one and was proud of it.

All this in ten minutes conversation.

We were on our second beer and I decided to take the bull by the horns.

"I'm bi-sexual," I said. "That's why we broke up."

"I thought it was something like that," he said "Anybody crazy about their body is usually gay."

"I'm not gay," I said.

"Whatever," he said.

"I haven't had sex with many men." I said.

"Me neither," he said.

"How many?" I asked him.

"None," he said, "But I'd like to have sex with you."

"Me or my biceps?" I said.

"Whatever," he said again and touched my trembling chest.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"Not now," I said.

"You can touch my dick." he said placing my hand on his lap just in case I lost my way.

Then, "I want to kiss you."

"Go right ahead," I said. And that's when the explosion took place. Our lips locked and at the same time previously untried doors seemed to burst open before us. Our tongues traded places and suddenly there was a flash of lips and limbs and pulsating flesh as we shed our clothes like a snake sheds its skin. We stopped the inane, empty chatter and our bodies - and dicks -- did the talking for us. Soon we were kissing and mouthing and devouring each other using the kitchen table as a meat rack. My tongue took me on an instinctive itinerary of his beautiful lithe body. Took me to places my tongue had never been to before and he made one appreciative sound after another to tell me he was enjoying the visit. "God, Barringer, that feels good," he crooned as my fingers began to probe his tight little ass and massage his pulsating prostate.

That was too much for him. He shuddered from tip to toe and said "What are you doing to me?"

"Giving you a fucking massage," I said crudely.

"Don't ever stop!"

So I took my tongue back to where my fingers had left off and his ass nearly swallowed it with pleasure. The logical thing now was to let my dick take over which I managed to do almost imperceptibly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he said contentedly.

"All in good time," I replied sadistically. "Sure you don't want me to use a rubber?"

"Fuck me, fuck me," he groaned. "I want to go bareback. I want to know how it feels." So I did. Fucked the fucking ass off him and surprised myself with my verve and venom. He let out a primal scream that threatened to shatter all the crystalware in the house including the Chinese chimes.

As we lay there on the kitchen table copiously covered with cum I thought of all the meticulous meals Barbara had prepared on that selfsame surface. I felt vindicated. His ass had been really soft and receptive and his cock had been hot and hard in my hand.

After all that time in denial I felt I had finally 'cum home.'

"And to think I thought I was a top and was going to fuck you," he said almost in disbelief.

"No way," I said.

"But you said you were bi-sexual."

"That doesn't mean I roll over for the first man I meet." I said sounding more Bostonian than ever.

"You've got a great ass," he said. "Pity to let all that good ground go to waste."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll let you know when it's ready for plowing."

"I'll probably be ready before you," he said. " I get hard again pretty quickly."

Something about the tone of his voice made me hot and horny.

"Let's have a steak and a beer," I said, trying to change the subject.

"Sounds good," he said. "Talking about meat always gives me an appetite."

Something about the natural way he talked and the natural way he'd taken it in the ass had me thinking that maybe it was time for me to change my ways. His dick had certainly felt good in the palm of my hand. I couldn't help wondering how it would feel in my butt.

"I don't want to go home," he said after dinner. "Can I stay the night?"

"If you behave yourself." I told him.

"Can't promise you that," he said.

We were pretty pooped out so we slept for a few hours before I felt stirrings in my butt crack and knew Doug was up and ready for it. I was ready for it too. I didn't know how I was going to get all of his generous dick inside me but the fact that I was in bed with somebody other than Barbara, and for the first time, gave me even more perverse pleasure than giving Doug his first butt fuck on the kitchen table.

"Got any lube?" he asked as if he was reading my mind.

I reached out but naturally there wasn't any in the bedside drawer.

"Never mind," he said. "I've got plenty of the home made stuff."

He was right. His dick was weeping in anticipation and couldn't wait to get inside me.

"Sure you don't need a rubber?" I said, trying to put off the inevitable.

"Don't worry I'm not going to make you pregnant." he said.

I laughed. Nevertheless I was somewhat disappointed. I'd kind of been looking forward to slipping the rubber on his dick myself and feeling him go hard at my touch. Instinctively knowing he had no qualms about it falling off inside. I was right. He was hard as a rock without any help from me. He didn't need any instruction book either but seemed to be putting to good use the lessons I'd given him earlier that evening. Soon he had me kneeling before him like a sacrificial lamb as he tongue-fucked me. He slathered and slurped up my ass and beat my cheeks like a kettledrum. Something I hadn't expected at all. I'd never had my ass beaten before and it sure as hell turned me on.

"Are you sure you haven't done this before?" I wailed, somewhere between pleasure and pain as he forced his way inside me. It was hell but it was heaven and it was where I'd always longed to go.

"I had a good teacher," is all he said. "Now open up and let my cock hear you crow."

"Yes, bwana," I replied obediently, eager to be mastered.

Soon my eardrums were filled with that slushy sloppy slurpy sound you hear when walking through wet mud. This was combined with the jungle drumming of my butt being beaten in preparation for the mouth-watering totem pole that was soon to fill my cauldron to the brim. The final sound effect was what I can only describe as throat warbling and the grinding of my clenched teeth as Doug used his dick as a crankshaft to oil up my works and set my motor humming. Now it was my turn to distort the English language into horny guttural sounds and equate penis with happiness. It was mind and butt boggling and Doug certainly gave me as much as he'd gotten that afternoon. And then some.

Another interesting thing about my mail man was that he was extremely late in making his delivery. He stayed hard almost beyond the powers of my endurance and came after a long, long time. It was literally almost more than my ass could bear.

"Wow," I said, when silence and Doug's dick finally descended once more.

"You certainly knocked the stuffing out of me."

"There's much more where that came from," he said. "Would you like me to move in with you?"

"Let's wait until the divorce becomes final," I told him, still Boston bred to the core.

Why couldn't I just say yes? Tell him nobody had ever made me feel like this in my life. Tell him I needed him like toast needs butter. Which is how he had made my ass feel. Like melted butter.

He rubbed himself against me. "You won't get a better fuck than me," he said.

"I know," I said running my fingers along that erotic line some guys have between the base of their trunk and the tops of their legs. I watched his fabulous dick rise again. My tongue came out to meet it. We made love till the early hours of the morning.

I made him breakfast and then packed him off to work. As he walked down my driveway for the second time in twenty-four hours, a surge of jealousy swept over me. He was right. He'd given me the best fuck I'd ever had. It didn't take me long to realize I didn't want him delivering letters to any other guy. I didn't want to lose him. It wasn't just that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I knew that before long, even before nightfall, I was going to be in urgent need of another 'bush telegraph' from my personal mailman. A decision was definitely going to have to be made. I'll keep you posted.