Chest HairChest Hair

Big Dicks

“You should. Start dating again, that is. Hell, you should hook up today! You’re gay! Enjoy the perks now that you finally can.”

I didn’t know how to reply. Was you-should-be-more-careful-who-you-have-sex-with-Ana, you’re-not-good-at-separating-sex-from-intimacy-Ana encouraging me to hook up with some rando? Today? I kept tying my shoes in silence, suddenly needing to get out of her flat as fast as possible.

“Look, I mean it. I’m worried about you. I know you wanted time for yourself. But the world has given us way too much time for ourselves, and we’re just miserable. Don’t deny it. Maybe it’s time to put yourself out there again.” She smiled worriedly, and then hugged me. God, it felt so good to hug someone. I almost cried.

It had already been over a year since the pandemic started — since I’d been on a date. Since I’d had any sex at all. It was too much — too long. And even after getting my second shot, I was strangely hesitant. Not because I was scared of getting infected. I knew I was young, healthy, and vaccinated; life was slowly going back to normal. But there was a primal part of my brain that wanted to stay at home a little longer, that still flinched when someone walked by just a little too close.

“Just promise me you won’t do something stupid, Diego,” she said as goodbye.

“Of course I won’t.”

Of course not.

Of course.

I was on my fourth glass of wine within the hour.

It was so easy, really, to let go. To download Grindr. Lying on the couch, almost naked except for a pair of white briefs and socks, it was easy to feel brave. There was a not unpleasant tingling on my neck as I typed in the password — a password somehow still in my memory, more than a year after having used it last. Ana was right. I needed this.

I’d barely started scrolling when I saw him. It had to be him. My swimming pool crush. Posing with a flannel shirt, all the buttons undone; one hand in his jeans pocket, keeping his shirt open, the other holding his phone; his sleeves casually rolled up, emphasizing his forearms. He wasn’t quite showing his face, having cropped the photo to only tease a hint of his smirk. It was his chest that gave him away — I’d recognize that chest hair anywhere: thick, curly, dark brown; emphasizing his broad nipples, contouring his pecs; tapering off to a slim trail.

Gosh, how long had it been since I’d last seen him? A year and a half? Two years? Since that day when he stayed swimming late, like I always did. When we were the only guys left at the pool– that cold Monday evening. eryaman escort When he entered the empty locker room right after I did, striking up conversation as if we had been old friends. I barely remember a word of what we were saying, but the images are branded into my memory. His tight, bulging speedos– a sharp contrast to my knee-length jammers and drag suit. The tiny droplets dripping from his chest. His all-too-knowing smirk as he caught me looking. How he took the shower right next to mine without hesitation. How he took off his swimsuit to reveal a throbbing erection underneath. How he joked that I should not shower before fully undressing. How he shut up when I asked him if he wanted to undress me himself. How I’d ended up sucking him off, right then and there. How his hand felt on my neck, through his frantic grunts, his futile attempts to control himself. How I came right after he did. The desperation with which he kissed me, at the end.

It took me a while to notice that my mouth had gone dry, that I’d started slowly touching myself through my briefs, that my erection was harder than it’d been since– well, probably since that day in the pool showers. He was only a couple of kilometers away. What should I say?


I almost slapped myself. Idiot! Was that really all I could come up with? Just “hey”? Oh great, come on, surely you could think of something else to say… Something that’s not the weather, nor the damned virus. (Even though, yeah, winter hasn’t quite left and it’s May; and, yeah, it is the worst pandemic in a century). No, come on… The pool? Would it be creepy if I told him I remember him from the pool? That I recognized him just from his chest hair?

“hey back cutie”


“you seem familiar… did you use to go the pool at the Olympic Park? back on the before times?”

“I did! Though it sure has been a while since I last was there hahah.”

Oh, fuck it all.

“It’s Tom, right? That chest looks as sexy as ever ;)”

I threw my phone to the other end of the couch, my hands tingling after what they had done. The last time I was this nervous about texting a guy, I was barely old enough to drink. Goddammit. I was just considering getting up for another glass of wine when my phone started buzzing.

“Aha so it is you! Diego, right? Or was it Daniel?”

“Diego! So you do remember! Good, I was starting to think it had all just been a fantasy of mine, hooking up with such a dreamy hunk at the pool.”

“Of esat escort course I remember.”


“Not a fantasy, but it was certainly fantastic.”


“Hey man, are you free? Would you like to come over? I’m kind of lonely and I’m sick of socializing through a screen. Also, I’m vaccinated.”

My dick got even more erect, if that was even possible. Seems I wasn’t the only desperate guy around. I scrambled to get up, nearly fell twice as I tried to get dressed, put my shirt on backwards the first time, somehow managing to text him on the way out– yes, I’d love to come over, I’m also lonely, also vaccinated. Also desperately horny, I almost added; but then, of course we were.

I almost turned back and ran home on my way to his apartment. It felt like half of me was delirious with excitement, the other half much closer to puking. I think it was only the cool rush of wind that kept me going, clearing the sky of clouds and my mind of worry; almost pushing me to his building, which I reached much too soon. Since when did he live so close to me? Since when did it take me so long to ring a damn doorbell? Why did I decide to take the fucking stairs?

Fourth floor, door on the left. He was waiting for me right inside, leaning on the door to hold it wide open. There it was — his mischievous grin. His goddamn dimples. That chest hair perfectly visible above the V-neck he was wearing. I stood there drooling, catching my breath, non-verbal. He chuckled as he beckoned me inside with a slight tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow. I don’t know if there was more blood rushing to my face or to my groin, but it was definitely all leaving my brain.

As soon as he closed the door behind me, there was a sudden change in the atmosphere — a crackle, almost. I wanted to speak, to break the tension, but before any sound came out of my mouth, he was crashing onto me. His lips against mine, demanding; his entire body pushing against me, the back of my neck against the wall; my hands on him, on his neck, on his arms; his arms surrounding me, one hand gripping my ass–

And then–

And then he pushed me away, one hand each on my biceps; holding me tightly, almost desperately. It took me a while to come down, to realize that I was also gasping alongside him, to start seeing again –noticing. His eyes were shut down tightly, a drop of sweat forming on his brow. I wondered if his heart was thumping as erratically as mine, his erection throbbing etimesgut escort as achingly. It wasn’t until he let me go that I felt just how hard he had been grabbing me; I was certainly going to have finger-shaped bruises on my arms tomorrow.

I licked my lips. What had just happened?

“So,” I started. Real creative.

“So — So I — ” he hesitated. “I’m sorry — I need to take it slow. It’s just been so long…” his eyes drifted.

“Hey. Hey, look at me. It’s okay. It’s okay”. I hugged him softly, laying my head on his shoulder. “It’s been a long time for me too. Well, a year is not that long, maybe, for some people, but it certainly feels like ages ago. Like our internal clocks got completely ruined, for obvious reasons, so whatever happened before just feels blurry, you know? Or not blurry, but weirdly distant. Like I have just been stuck for a year and yet somehow everything changed.” Did I mention I tend to babble when I’m nervous?

“You’re not babbling. I feel the same way.” I could feel his warm chuckle reverberating through me.

Oh God. I said that last part out loud, didn’t I? “Anywho,” I said, as I slowly dragged him to the king-sized bed that dominated his studio apartment. “We can take it slow if you want. Or not. What do you want to do?”

He followed me slowly, only letting go of my hand to start undressing us. He methodically took off his shirt, then mine. His pants, my jeans. He kneeled down to remove the last item– my socks, then looked up at me. “I want to return the favor,” he growled. And he swallowed me to the root.

There was no teasing, no playing around. Only our raw desperation– my hands on his shoulders, my hips jackhammering against his face; his right hand frantically stroking his dick, his left on my ass– making me move even faster; our eyes closed, my head thrown back ecstatically.

Within minutes– both too soon and not soon enough– I was cumming in his mouth, clasping his head with all my strength, barely keeping myself from falling down. He let me go, and I really did fall down on my butt– just in time to watch his body convulse; every spasm shooting a load of cum on his chest, every muscle tense, his expression almost one of agony.

After he laid down on his back, I took my time to appreciate the glorious artwork we had created. His chest– the chest that had haunted my dreams for almost two years now– painted with streaks of his cum and sweat. I slowly traced my index finger from his navel to each of his nipples before tasting him. It was too good. I had to eat it all– and so I did, licking his entire chest clean, slowly, thoroughly; as he slowly came to and mindlessly stroked my back.

I kissed him– gently, unhurriedly– and lay down next to him on the floor, right next to his bed; my head on his shoulder, his head on mine.

“I’m glad you needed to take it slow,” I said.

We both laughed.

Bir yanıt yazın

E-posta adresiniz yayınlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir