Morning Wood by Callan Smith

Towards the end of 2007, this gorgeous guy came up to me in our local bar and said he'd seen me on tv in a movie. How he recognized me I don't know as I'd been dressed as a Harley Davidson biker and the make-up man had really made me over. He'd shaved off my beard and covered me with scars and tattoos. Not to mention chains and studs and all that. I mean I usually play judges and lords and other refined gentlemen. In one movie I was even neurologist to the Pope. Maybe I'd struck his fancy and he was into all that stuff. I couldn't really see his body as he was wrapped up to beat the chill in the winter air although my heart skipped a beat at the sight of his dark good looks and go-to-bed eyes. He also had what I can only call a visceral voice, by which I mean it seemed to stem from somewhere deep down in his private parts and gave me an instant woody. I was so surprised by this unexpected, but welcome, adulation that he was out the door before I could even say cappuccino.

In 2008 - at Easter to be exact - he came into the bar again and was less heavily clad. He was in a hurry as usual and didn't see me although I noticed him immediately. Especially his firm round ass which reminded me of two hot-cross buns as he leant over the bar to reach for some more sugar. He stirred his coffee until he nearly stirred the bottom out of the cup. That erotic sound and the sight of the hot liquid slipping down his throat as he sipped his coffee turned my dick to mahogany again as I imagined stirring the bottom out of his ass, or sipping the liquid seeping out of his dick, but once again he was out the door before I could make my move.

I decided to have a photograph handy for the next time I ran into him. Hopefully that wouldn't be long. Maybe a close-up of me as the biker but that might probably put him off his cappuccino as I looked like an even more brutal version of Magwich in "Great Expectations." My expectations were certainly great even though I'd noticed he was wearing a wedding ring. And I didn't have to worry about opening gambits, something which always bothered me when trying to score with a straight guy. After all he was the one who had approached me. Lines like "Do you have a light?" or "That's a great sweater" always sound so corny and banal although the other guy doesn't seem to mind if he's interested and, if he isn't, the worst he can do is to leave you flat. At least that part of you that isn't sticking out in horny anticipation. Anyway I find straights are quite straightforward nowadays and if a guy likes you, he communicates verbally or bodily so there's no need to get uptight about it.

My mind flashed back to when I was making the movie. It really was an enjoyable experience once I'd got used to the scars, tattoos and black leather. And the inclement weather. I didn't make it with any of the other actors or even with one of the inevitable hangers-on but I did get it together with some local buck. We were filming in the Abruzzo National Park a few hours ride from Rome. It was May but freezing cold. In fact it snowed in the middle of my first close-up. This wouldn't have mattered so much if the movie hadn't been set in Las Vegas and it was supposed to be mid-summer.

We were really well looked after by the production company and housed in modernized authentic cottages. They're sprucing up a lot of old villages in previously remote parts of Italy and using them as residential conference centres or turning them into the equivalent of five star hotels where you can enjoy the quiet of the countryside and be given the best food and wine Italy has to offer. Our film company had rented out one of those while we were on location and had provided me with a little cottage at the edge of a wood. It was perfectly equipped with central heating and a log fire to keep you warm just in case you needed a little extra comfort. Unfortunately when I arrived there were no logs to feed it. Gregorio provided me with those. In more ways than one. He was the hunky son of the guy in charge of the complex and his early morning visit was quite unexpected. Always the best kind. He taught me what home comforts were all about and fulfilled one of my fantasies. To wake up one morning and find myself being sucked off by a perfect stranger.

When I was in college I'd sucked off my room-mate although he wasn't exactly what you might call a perfect stranger. Just kept his sexual distance. Until one horny morning that is when spring and Dave's dick sprung. It was a one-sided affair I'm afraid, as these things often are, but it sure gave me a taste of things to come and left me longing for something similar to happen to me one day.

Dave invariably woke up with a hard-on and always let the sheet fall off before he opened his eyes. I know now that he did it on purpose. Naturally, he caught me with my mouth wide open several times although until that day I hadn't the courage to suck him off in his sleep. Feigned or otherwise.

We had a room just under the roof. We call it a garret in England where I come from. I think you'd call it a loft although it's not quite the same thing. The sun was filtering through the garret window and seemed to be kissing his dick. I wanted to kiss it too but didn't dare. He rolled over, eyes shut, luxuriating in the warmth of the sunbeams. He stretched out and groaned in horny content bringing his wonderful woody into full relief. Such an appetizing sight was just too much for me to resist and I knelt down at his bedside and breakfasted on his thick, succulent sausage and hard-boiled eggs. He groaned some more. This time seemingly in protest but his dick seemed to contradict him and got firmer and hotter and wetter in my moist mouth. At first, he ran his fingers through my hair in a vain attempt to stop me but then started groaning even harder and pulled me into the bed with him, and my hair nearly out by the roots, as he came in cumful spasms. Although he made no mention of what we'd done, he fed me with morning cream for several weeks afterwards and even allowed me to lick his ass but he wouldn't let me fuck him. That would have made him gay he said much later.

So there I was, that freezing May morning, giving myself a woody fantasizing about such things and recalling stories I'd read about desperate housewives being visited by milkmen and mail men and computer men and all sorts of other men who often entered by the back-door - the tradesman's entrance as my mother used to call it. I tried to imagine what it would be like being plumbed by a plumber or something. One friend had told me about the day a window-cleaner climbed into his bedroom when he was in his late teens but that's not the same as it actually happening to you is it. Then along came Gregorio when I was least expecting him. I was aroused - literally - by the crunching of snow and the sound of him knocking on my window pane.

I'd only just seen "All That Heaven Allows" on a late night movie and the sight of my very own Rock Hudson look-alike was more than even the wettest of my wet dreams had prepared me for. In case you don't know, I'm a confirmed cinema buff and besides sleeping in the buff there's nothing I like more than watching old movies on late night tv. There's something about those 1950 movie stars that really turns me on even if a lot of them seem to have nothing inside their bathing suits. Still, I must say that I was very impressed - during an Ann-Margret season recently - to see how yummy and nipple-lickin' good Pat Boone looked when I saw him bare-chested in "State Fair." Some guys are really so much better with their shirts off and I'm happy to say that Gregorio was no exception to the rule. In fact he had a much better body than Rock Hudson who I think you'll agree with me was somewhat of a disappointment in that particular department.

Even so, if I'd been told that logs would be delivered to my door first thing in the morning I'd have somehow expected a lumbering, bearded lumberjack, or logger as I think you call them over there. Not this Universal International dreamboat. I think I must have forgotten for a moment how nicely those Seven Brothers cleaned up after Jane Powell had freshly laundered them. Be that as it may, I was so taken by surprise that I shot to my feet and my dick almost hit the ceiling. I exaggerate a bit, but only a bit, because I'm very well equipped too which I'm sure didn't go unnoticed on Gregorio as it served as something of an introduction. He was in there sucking me off and sexually making my acquaintance before we even had time to shake hands.

Just as my room-mate had, I ran my fingers through Gregorio's hair. But not to protest. In fact, they were soon almost halfway down his back as he proceeded to 'blow-dry' my dick. I know that's not quite the right verb but 'blow-wet' doesn't exist and he sure put a lot of hot air and suction into 'taking my dick to the cleaner's' so to speak. I didn't have an ounce of cum left by the time he'd finished with me. He swallowed the lot.

"I brought your wood," he said eventually.

"I thought you'd come to polish it off." I said.

Of course he didn't understand and I didn't know how to say it in Italian. Anyway my English sense of humour would have got lost in translation as it often does even in the States although I hope I'm giving you a chuckle, as well as a woody or two.

"My name's Gregorio," he said.

"Callan," I said. "Pleased to meet you."

But my dick must have communicated that to him for me.

"I'll light your fire," he said.

"You've done that already, baby." I quipped, unable to resist it.

This time he understood, and smiled. I suppose they say that in Italian too.

"You mustn't think I give the same service to all our guests," he said.

"Only those who have morning woodies?" I ventured.

Once again he didn't understand. Or chose not to. So I decided to change the subject.

"Can you join me for breakfast?" I asked. "Keep me company a bit. I'm free till 3."

"I have a few errands to run," he said, "but I could come back in an hour or so."

"Perfect," I said, looking at his body, which was. I couldn't wait to get him out of his clothes.

An hour or two went by before he finally came back. I was beginning to think he'd been a figment of my fervid imagination. He asked if he could have shower. I asked if I could watch him.

"Sure," he said. "You can undress me too if you like."

This was another one of my fantasies about to be fulfilled. Undoing his shirt slowly, button by button and kissing his pouting lips as his pronounced pecs came into full view. Meanwhile my hand was investigating the contours of his thick dick beneath the flannel fabric I found under his jeans.

My head grew dizzy at the feel of him. And his body tasted and smelled smoky and sexy like he'd just emerged from a forest fire.

"Let me get washed up first," he said. "then you can lick me all over."

Somehow we made it to the shower as I ripped the shirt off his back and dragged his long-johns down over his knees. He almost tripped over them as we kissed. I've never been kissed quite like Gregorio kissed me. He seemed to purse his hot fleshy lips and stick them out like a thirsty child searching for his mother's teat. Then he sucked my mouth towards him and made my lips vibrate and buzz like a horny honeybee but he was the one feeding me the nectar. I'd never felt anything like it. My knees went weak and I wanted to fall in worship of his gorgeous ten-inch dick.

He let me lather every nook and horny cranny of him and then rinse him with my mouth after we'd washed off the shower foam. At first I didn't know where to start. There was so much luscious meat to choose from. But he took my head between his woodsman's hands and guided me to places we both wanted me to go. This included consuming enough of his flesh to satisfy a pack of famished wolves for a week but my hunger for him didn't abate until I'd licked between the folds of his golden delicious apple butt and then finished off my morning meal with the fullness of his dick.

Three o'clock and the camera call came all too soon. Especially as we hadn't fucked or anything. We'd taken too long over the preliminaries. He promised to drive down to Rome to visit me one weekend but somehow never quite made it. "Strike while the iron is hot," my mother used to say, but unfortunately I didn't heed her advice and maybe Gregorio's iron cooled down a bit after I left although mine still gets red hot at the thought of him. Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I'm still waiting. And I suppose you're waiting to hear what happened to my anonymous admirer with the dark good looks and the visceral voice so let's get back to the first paragraph and stems and private parts and all that.

His name's Maurizio and he finally came back into the bar. It was summer by then and he was wearing blue, cotton overalls. You know the kind that open down the front. They've always turned me on so it was time for a morning woody again. For once he wasn't in a hurry so he sat down next to me, splaying and displaying his muscular legs as workmen tend to do. I immediately wanted to 'reach out and touch something' but repressed the urge. Naturally I didn't have a photo handy as had been my original intention but so much time had gone by that I'd given up waiting for him. Almost forgotten about him actually. But not quite. It turned out he installed air-conditioners and the like and, as luck would have it, I was having problems with mine. Not that I really needed an excuse to lure him back to my apartment as I could see by the way he looked at me that he was interested. And my Geiger counter dick certainly picked up the right vibrations from him.

He came back with me and we took the lift up to the seventh floor where I live. I've always found the confined space of an old-fashioned lift very erotic. Besides the fact that it shudders between floors, you have to open and close the double doors and in so doing you often brush up against the other person accidentally. At least I do. Especially if they have a butt like Maurizio's. Then there are those long, interminable seconds when you gaze into each other's eyes and don't quite know what to say although your bodies are speaking volumes for you.

We reached the top and I heard his intake of breath as he saw the view from my terrace. The flat itself is very small because in the fifties it had been a wash-house and housewives used to hang out their laundry there. Don't know if you've ever seen that movie " A Special Day" with Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni where he turns out to be gay, but it was a bit like that and the view was stupendous. We sat outside under the umbrella and I served drinks. After undoing a button or two, Maurizio asked me if he could take some sun and of course I agreed, hoping it wouldn't be long before he was taking me. He stretched out as he had in the bar but this time he undid all the buttons of his overalls right down to his navel. I noticed he had a fine fuzz of hair on his chest.

His nipples and pecs were exactly to my liking. Not to mention the promising sight of a lush, pubic hair brush just below his flat stomach. God it was great to be with a man who didn't shave himself down there. His pits were pretty bushy too. All told, I was very happy to have him there all to myself and after such a long interlude. I felt I was finally at journey's end. Or its beginnings.

Eventually he slipped the overalls off his shoulders. It was a pretty hot day. And he was a pretty hot guy. I still couldn't believe he was really sitting there in front of me. And half-naked too. I decided to take my own shirt off as well.

"I might as well join you." I said, anointing my fair skin with sun block, as I slipped nimbly out of my pants. Mind you I was wearing boxers underneath.

"Maybe you'd better give me some of that," he said, "or better still put some on my back."

He rolled over and pulled down his overalls. I could see the deep cleavage of his beautiful butt. The sight of it made me even hornier than Tom Cruise made me when I saw him in "Far and Away" and I don't even like Tom Cruise but his butt crack was really something and quite unexpected and I was only in my teens and had never seen a butt crack on a wide screen. I was with my mother and therefore grateful for the dark of the cinema. I had quite a woody I can tell you. For one so young.

I massaged Maurizio's muscular back and he rolled his overalls down some more.

"You can take those off if you like," I said, the suggestion almost sticking in my throat.

"I'm not wearing underwear," he replied. As if he didn't know I knew.

"No matter," I said and proceeded to roll the rest of his overalls off him.

Part of the thrill was getting them over his dick which I realized must have been rock hard by now.

He raised his butt to help me in my horny endeavours. It was white and contrasted with the rest of his brown body. I continued to rub in the sun block and didn't see any reason why that shouldn't include his ass cheeks. In fact I put a lot of elbow grease into my labour of love. Nearly ground his groin into the ground.

"That feels good," he said. "Nobody's ever massaged me there before."

Happily I refrained from saying, "Always a first time." But I did say, "So I see."

I worked my hands in between his legs and over his thighs. I hoped it felt as good to him as it felt to me. Obviously it did because he groaned a bit. Almost imperceptibly and lifted his ass some more so that soon I was only inches - or centimetres - away from his balls. I was so tempted to stroke them and run my oily hand up the full length of his dick. He must have read my mind.

"You've given me quite a hard-on," he said.

"Likewise," I said as he rolled over to show me just how hard I'd made him.

"Why don't you put some sun block on the front of me too," he said shamelessly.

"Even there?" I asked, dick wet and throat dry.

"Especially there," he said.

So I did.

It was great massaging a comparative stranger's generous dick in the warm sunlight and caressing his chest and firm nipples although eventually I couldn't help thinking now he's going to ask me to go down on him and it's going to be the same old story of servicing somebody else without getting a fair share myself. But I was wrong. "Now it's my turn," he said and had my shorts over my knees and sun block all over my butt and his recently lubricated cock was soon making its welcome way along my ever widening back passage. Now it was me doing the groaning. And not imperceptibly either. And crying out, "God that feels good. God that feels good."

It felt even better when he jerked me off as he came.

After we'd washed up and had some lunch I took some photos of him. That made quite a change too because as you probably know I usually use my camera as an instrument of seduction while getting some hunk all horned up and ready to take off his clothes. This time I was doing it the other way round and got some great shots of Maurizio spilling out of his open overalls, and one gem of him sitting with his back to me and his butt crack coming into view like the sun over the horizon. He really enjoyed posing for them and of course wanted copies which led to many more meetings and further exploration of our sexual libidos.

So far he's a frequent visitor. You might even say he comes very often. As do I. Copiously. Each time he fucks me. He's never said much about his wife. Or even if he has children. But I make sure I keep him happy when he's with me. And I'm building up quite a collection of erotic photos and home movies as a stand-by for those long, winter evenings when there's nothing to interest me on late night tv and I no longer have Gregorio's cock to warm the cockles of my heart and, worse still, may even have to collect my own morning wood.