Monday Blues

Monday morning, around 5:00 am:

"I thought you promised no double dipping."

"Ugh. Wha...?"

I had woken up on the complete other side of the massive king size bed, and, eyes WIDE open, unable to sleep and unable to hold it in any longer.

"I said, I thought when we  got back together, that you weren't going to double dip with the same piece of ass.  What...? I guess three or more isn't, by definition, ACTUALLY dbl-dipping, is it?"

Suddenly awake and aware of my mood, Mark moves across the expanse of bed, sidles up to me, wrapping his arm around me and making sure his more than swollen, fat cock his smushed against my leg (he knows I am a complete flapp'n vagina for his cock), and asks, "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing..."

"Oh."

Breaking the silence, I say, "He was always more than nice, sickeningly nice. And if looks could kill, I'd be burning in Hell right now and up to my eyeballs in molten shit."

Big sigh... "It's just sex, Raf, we're fuck buddies, that's it."

"We were fuck buddies, too, remember...? That's when we fell in love again."

He's stays quiet, obviously trying to think his way out.

Again, I break the silence, "Do what you want, Mark, I'm not gonna hold you back.  You're gone too much for me to keep tabs on you, but be careful.  You may not think anything about him, but I guarantee you, he's thinking about you AND me, right now.  And he's hurting...Sorry to tell you, but he's in love with you."

As we talk, I can feel his dick trying to seduce me, plumping up just slightly, as the warm, fat head lightly growls as it grows and thickens against my leg.  I feel myself being pulled into his warmth.  His strong, manly arm holding me in tight as his big hand caresses at my pecs and abs.  The cadence of his breath at my ear as his own strong chest expands with air against my back. I want to just say, FUCK IT, and then, literally, do just THAT.  Just mount him and FUCK HIM!  Transferring every ounce of anger and frustration out through my spasming cock and into his Hell bound, burning ass.  But somehow I find the resolve to move myself away from his grip and get my ass out of the bed.   I grab my workout clothes, get dressed and head up to the hotel gym.  There, I just get on the tread mill machine, put the dial to 12, and let my mind RUN!

Mindlessly running up and down the dial (90 seconds balls out sprint and 45 seconds cool down), I start to analyze the weekend from a logical perspective.  I know Mark sees things differently than I do.  I grew up with a big family, and parents that loved each other, and I want some semblance of that.  Mark grew up as an only child with a mom that is on her fourth husband (maybe third, Mark's not sure if she ever actually married his Dad), and a Dad that's no where to be found, dick'n his way through life, and popping in and out as he sees fit.  Where I get stuck is, he PROMISED that he wouldn't dip into the same ass twice.  He PROMISED he wouldn't do it with any guy that he actually knew, and especially not a guy he worked with.  I didn't make him promise any of this, he came up with this on his own those few months ago, that we talked and made some sort of a commitment to one another. 

What is a man, if not his word?  

About 10 minutes into my workout, Mark walks into the gym, gets on the treadmill right beside me, and starts in on the same routine.  I acknowledge him, but we don't talk, both caught up in our own thoughts and worries.  Another 10 minutes, out of breath and legs like rubber, I  do a couple minutes of cool down, dripping in sweat, and take a couple swigs of water.  I decide to wait for him, so, after a quick towel off, I do a round of "crazy legs" to finish myself off and then a routine of light stretching.  

Back in our room, it's Mark's turn to break the deafening silence; first with a heart felt hug, then, after licking the sweat off my ear, he whispers, "I love you, Rafi."

He pulls away, looking me in the eye, looking for my reaction.  Of course, I melt.  The fucker has such a pull on me, it makes me fucking crazy!  The next thing I know, I got his naked, sweaty ass up in the air and right in my line of sight.  I can't get my tongue lapping up his man dew all along his taint and deep into his sweat coated ass fast enough.  I love the taste and smell of a man after a hard workout, and  Mark never disappoints.  Too wound up, I flip him onto his back, slather us both up, and, wrapping him up like a pretzel, sink deep and hard into my lover.  All the emotion, all my pent up angst for being his weekend whore, drives my flailing hips as they pound at his hot and willing ass.  My mind is buzzing, my dick is grinding and I couldn't give a shit if it was good for him or not; if it was pleasure he felt or if it was pain.  I was using him, fucking him, eyes burning into him as I let loose my poison deep into his dysenteried bowels.  FUCK HIM and his bubble butted little whore of a friend, with the sparkly green eyes and the hot, dick sucking lips!

Finished, I pulled out, used his softened cock and balls to wipe my shit and cum stained dick off and, satisfied that I truly did fuck the cum right outta him, hit the shower to cleans my body and , hopefully, wash away my distaste.  

Dressed, I drove Mark to the airport, drove home and went to bed.

(sorry, guys, I'll be better tomorrow...not so heavy)