Chapter 6
"Hi," the studly young hunk said by way of greeting.
Cody told himself he was imagining things if he thought the young blond was cruising. Cody had to be damned sure he didn't slip into the groove a lot of gays dropped into: believing every man who said two words to them was on the make. It just wasn't so. And, the chance this young stud had been interested in more than giving Cody a friendly greeting was pretty farfetched.
"Hi," Cody responded, moving toward the exercise room.
"You look in pretty good shape," the blond said, falling into step beside Cody. "You down here often?"
"I haven't been down for awhile," Cody admitted. "I used to come down all of the time."
"I knew I hadn't seen you before," the blond said. "I would have noticed for sure."
Cody turned, giving the kid another once-over. At the same time, Cody told himself once again that just because this kid was friendly didn't mean he was gay. Cody had obviously been spending entirely too much time around the homosexual element. He was beginning to suspect everyone.
"You look in pretty good shape yourself," Cody observed, deciding that was the understatement of the year. The kid was in damned good physical condition. He was possibly even in better shape than Cody. He had rectangular pectorals, well-defined beneath the stretch of the white YMCA t-shirt. He had a tapered waist and nice legs.
Cody checked for a basket, but jockstraps were famous for keeping even the biggest of cocks in unassuming obscurity.
"I'm down here every night," the blond said. "I'm taking a gymnastics class and doing some weight lifting. The gymnastics class is kind of small. There'd be plenty of room if you wanted to join in."
"Thanks," Cody replied, deciding the kid reminded him of Tyler. The kid had the same blond good looks, the same aura of farm-boy innocence. Cody began to regret the kid wasn't queer. Cody would have liked seeing what the blond's body looked like minus t-shirt, gym shorts, jockstrap, tennis shoes, and sweat socks.
"My name is Jim," the blond said, extending a ham-like hand. He was somewhere in his late teens like Cody.
"Cody," Cody supplied, accepting Jim's hand. Jim's handshake was firm.
"You into gymnastics?" Jim asked. "God knows, you look like you've got the body."
Cody reminded himself that Jim's interest in his physique had nothing whatsoever to do with one queer checking out another. Some guys were always comparing their builds to others, especially weight lifters. It was like younger kids comparing cock sizes.
"I did a little in high school," Cody admitted.
"Yes," Jim said. "I thought so."
Cody knew where he was going inside the building, since this wasn't his first time at the Y. He used to come down all of the time with his father. Back in those days before the father-son relationship seemed to have -- for whatever the reasons -- become less than solid. When had the two begun to grow apart? When Cody's mother had died? No, it had been shortly before that, hadn't it? For some reason, the breach had begun about the time Cody had reached puberty. Anyway, that's the way Cody read it. He certainly couldn't put any rhyme or reason to it. Hell, maybe it was just natural for a father and son to begin drifting apart when the son reached a certain age in his sexual development.
"You going to suit up for a little exercise?" Jim asked, keeping with Cody as Cody headed toward the large exercise room down the hallway.
"Not today," Cody said. "I didn't bring any of my shit."
"That's too bad," Jim said, apparently really wishing Cody had been planning to suit up.
"You look as if you've already worked up quite a sweat," Cody observed. He hadn't missed the sweat stains darkening the front and underarms of Jim's t-shirt. Jim's blond hair was also damp across his forehead.
"Yea, I have," Jim admitted. "Still, I wouldn't have minded spotting for you, had you needed a spotter."
"Maybe next time," Cody said, beginning to wish he had brought his gym clothes. Jim was someone Cody figured he would have liked to know a little better. Jim was good looking, butch, and he would have kept Cody on the right exercise track. Cody knew how easy it was to get out of shape, and Cody was apt to get out of shape if he didn't get his ass back into a regular exercise program. "You said you're down here regularly?"
"Any night," Jim said, stopping at the swinging doors leading into the showers. "As a matter of fact, you'd be doing me a big favor in coming down. I'm kind of looking for a guy who can keep up with me, if you know what I mean. Not to brag, but some of the kids who come here don't know a kip-up front a jack-off."
Cody smiled. Jim smiled.
Cody decided Jim was one hell of a nice-looking young man -- blond hair, blue eyes, Slavic cheekbones, nice tan, excellent body. Cody shook his head to clear it, knowing he was sizing Jim up as a potential sexual partner.
"Maybe, I will make it a point to come down regularly," Cody said. However, his swelling cock made him wonder if that was really a smart idea. Cody was sure Jim wouldn't be able to understand the reasons for Cody's sudden hard-ons in the locker room. "I am getting a little rusty and could probably use a good workout."
"Promise not to team up with anybody else," Jim said.
"Sure," Cody agreed, actually flattered. Jim seemed the type who would have had guys waiting in line to be his exercise partner.
"Good," Jim said, obviously pleased. He shook Cody's hand again, seeming reluctant to release it. "Tomorrow, huh?"
"I'll try to make it," Cody said.
"You do that," Jim said and headed into the shower room.
Cody headed down the hall to the main exercise area.
What was Cody doing here? Well, he wasn't really sure he had an immediate answer to that question. Mainly he was here because he suspected his father was here. And, it had been one hell of a long time since Cody had been down to watch his father work out.
Was Cody out to try and capture something that had been before but which had somehow disappeared? Hell, maybe he was. Then, again, maybe he was never going to realize why he was here.
The main exercise area at the Y was a large room filled with weight apparatus on one end, boxing ring and punching, bags in the center, and gymnastics equipment at the other end. The room was surrounded by bleachers, mainly empty, which gave the impression of some kind of athletic meet just prior to opening the doors to let in the crowds.
The room was far from empty. On the one end, several guys were lifting weights of various shapes and sizes. On the other end, one kid was on the side horse, another on the still rings. In the center, two guys were boxing in the ring, while a mat off to one side held a couple of sweaty wrestlers.
At first Cody thought Fletcher wasn't there. Then, he spotted his father, off to one side, laying it into one of the large punching bags with a fury. Whack! Whack! Whack! Cody somehow was quickly able to eliminate all of the other sounds in the room to isolate the sounds of his father's doubled fists against the bag.
And, now that Cody was there, now that Fletcher was there, what now? Did Cody go over and let himself be recognized? He went over to the bleachers and climbed to one of the top rungs. He sat and watched his father, remembering how many times he had sat in this room and watched his father work out.
Cody's cock had swollen to erection in his pants. And, Cody was well aware his erection wasn't entirely because of his just-ended conversation with Jim.
The simple truth was, Cody found his father sexually attractive. And, it was his initial discovery of that fact which had caused him to automatically begin pulling away from his father. It just wasn't natural for a son to get turned on sexually to his old man.
Look at Fletcher now, for Christ's sake! Cody doubted very much if he had ever seen anyone -- anyone -- who exuded as much raw, sexual magnetism as his father did.
Fletcher was wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt, lined with a white border. He was wearing white trunks with a blue band. There was curly black hair showing at the v-neck of the t-shirt. There was curly black hair showing on both of his muscled legs. There were sweat stains -- black against black -- at Fletcher's armpits and down the front and back of his t-shirt. Fletcher's gym trunks had a tendency to creep upward into the man's ass crease, emphasizing his muscular ass buns.
Whack... whack... whack!
Fletcher apparently wasn't aware of Cody or of anyone else in the room. He was concentrating too thoroughly on what he was about -- denting the punching bag with his doubled fists.
And, what would Fletcher say if he were to look up and see Cody sitting there? Cody wished Fletcher wouldn't look up, Cody was content right where he was. He didn't want to be put into a position where he would have to make any explanations. Because, Cody still doubted if he could come up with any real explanations.
Cody felt the vibration caused by feet on the bleachers. He shifted his gaze from his sweatglossed father to Jim, who was walking up toward him.
"Hi," Jim said, echoing his original greeting. He had changed from gym trunks and t-shirt to t-shirt and faded jeans.
"Hi," Cody said, somehow feeling as if he had been through this conversation once before.
"Pretty studly number, huh?" Jim said, nodding toward Fletcher, who hadn't let up for a second on beating the punching bag.
"Yea, isn't he?" Cody agreed, pleased his father was being complimented by a studly number who certainly would know another studly number when he saw one.
"You two kind of look alike, you know?" Jim said, his attention back on Cody.
"You think so?" Cody asked. He was tempted to admit to the relationship, but decided not to.
"Yes, you could be brothers," Jim said. "You don't think so?"
"Yea, I guess you could be right," Cody admitted.
"You like 'em dark?" Jim asked.
Cody eyed Jim curiously, trying to decide if there were more in the question than innocent inquiry.
"Like 'em dark?" Cody asked, hinting for clarification.
"Some people are drawn toward their own likeness," Jim said. His right hand moved to his crotch, realigning his obviously large cock beneath the material. "Others are attracted to opposites. Know what I mean?"
Yes, Cody thought he knew, but he wasn't yet ready to accept the obvious. Maybe he wanted to be hit over the head.
"Take me, for instance," Jim said, seeming more than willing to keep on until there could be no doubt whatsoever as to what he was getting at. "I'm blond, but blonds don't do anything for me. I like black hair, black eyes, tanned, darkcomplected bodies. Like yours."
Jim couldn't have made it any plainer than that, could he? And Cody couldn't help being a little put off. Did this sonofabitch think Cody was so obviously queer he could be approached just like that in a YMCA exercise room?
"If you're saying what I think you are, buddy, I suggest you shove off," Cody said. "We're both big enough so that we're liable to make one hell of a lot of noise when I make my attempt at punching you out. You get the picture?"
"You're not really going to pull that big, butch, macho number on me, are you?" Jim asked and smiled. He had an attractive smile. It revealed a row of even white teeth. It slightly dimpled Jim's left cheek.
"Tell me, buddy, what made you pick me out of everyone else here this afternoon?" Cody asked, wondering if he wasn't making a big mistake in even asking. The last thing he wanted Jim to tell him was how Jim had spotted Cody as a fellow queer right away.
"I told you," Jim said. "I got turned on by your looks."
"You've got one hell of a fucking nerve," Cody said, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. He was having a hell of a hard time believing this was happening. Granted, Cody was used to being propositioned by now. There were certain times and places -- like on the streets -- where a proposition might be expected. This time and place, on the other hand, had been the last where Cody had expected sexual invitations, even though he had heard rumors the Y was infamous for its share of gay activity.
"I decided a long time ago I wasn't going to miss out on something nice purely because I didn't have the guts to walk right up and ask for it," Jim said. "So, I took a couple of courses in self-defense to prepare myself for putting up a good fight with any offended straights. Is that what you are, an offended straight?"
"You think you could get the best of me in a boxing match?" Cody asked. He figured if anyone had a good chance of doing just that, it was probably Jim.
"I don't box," Jim said. "I wrestle." He smiled. "That way, I get to rub crotches even if you do beat the shit out of me."
"Jesus, a genuine pervert!" Cody said, hoping to sound indignant. Actually, he was having a hell of a time not laughing out loud. Jim's candor was really too fucking much!
"A pervert who can give wicked head," Jim said, unabashedly letting his gaze fall on Cody's bulged crotch. "A pervert who wants really bad to suck off your big cock. And, it is big, too, isn't it, Cody?"
"You have got to be kidding!" Cody said, shaking his head in total disbelief.
"You think you're the first straight kid whose cock would be sucked by me to climax?" Jim asked.
"Are you for real, or am I just imagining you?" Cody asked.
"Actually, I prefer straights," Jim said, continuing with his explanations. "Straights are no way going to try and complicate my life with emotional involvements. Every queer I ever sucked off fell in love with me and wanted me to run away with him forever."
Cody laughed. He couldn't help it. Then, nervous at the thought his father might have heard him, Cody glanced in Fletcher's direction. Fletcher was paying no attention, still working the punching bag.
"You afraid one blow-job from a faggot is going to convert you right away into a queer?" Jim asked, his smile going wider.
"You're putting me on, right?" Cody asked. For some reason, he still couldn't believe this attractive blond stud was actually requesting permission to swing his handsome face on Cody's hard prick.
"Want to take a couple of minutes beneath the bleachers to see how serious I am?" Jim asked.
"Why don't you look like a queer?" Cody asked, momentarily sidestepping Jim's proposal, as tempting as that proposal might be. There was, after all, something exceptionally erotic about even the thought of going down beneath the bleachers and getting his cock sucked off while his father beat on a punching bag a few yards away.
"What does a queer look like?" Jim asked. "Surely you're not one of those deluded straights who thinks a queer has to have a limp wrist, a waggy ass, and a breathless voice? Jeeceezus! Coming, stud?" Jim said, getting to his feet. His pants crotch bulged obscenely. His cock was obviously stiff as a board.
Cody's cock was stiff, too. Had been since before this conversation had even begun. There was no missing the massive mountain ridge Cody's erection was making between his legs. It was beyond imagining that Jim had missed seeing it. "I'll take care of that hunk of meat of yours and have it soft as rubber in no time," Jim said.
Cody stood.
"That's it," Jim said, his smile wider. "I like a straight stud who has got the guts to try something different now and again. You'd be surprised at how many are paranoid enough to think that one blow-job is going to turn them into Tinkerbell. I mean, I'll admit I'm damned good, but..."
Jim led the way down the stairway formed by the bleacher benches. Reaching the bottom layer, Jim stepped to the floor and ducked around one end to enter the darkness beneath. Cody followed into the maze of metal supports.
It was shadowy under the bleachers, but only in comparison to the brighter neon lights illuminating the large gym area. The light that did manage to seep down through the rows of seats striped Jim and Cody's bodies, convening them both into exotic male animals.
"Here," Jim said, and, Cody -- paranoid as he suddenly was -- realized Jim wasn't even whispering. "Lean against this support, and I'll get started."
"You do this very often?" Cody asked, positioning himself so he had a view of his father through two of the bleacher benches.
"Only when I see a specimen that really turns me on," Jim said. "Which, believe it or not, isn't really all that often. Studs like you, Cody, my boy, are few and far between. Take the word of an expert on the male animal of the species."
Jim dropped to his knees, his right and left hands going to Cody's crotch. His left hand held the bottom of Cody's zipper, tugging to hold the row of metal teeth in a straight line. Jim's right hand unfastened the zipper tab and drew it downward.
Cody's pants crotch opened without a hitch. Jim had obviously done all of this many times before. But then, Jim had admitted as much -- in so many words.
"Jesus!" Jim breathed in appreciation. He had reached his right hand in between the gaping zipper teeth and had taken hold of Cody's knotted cock.
"I can't believe this cock of yours is actually real. I shouldn't confess it, but I was expecting to find a sock stuffed with toilet paper."
"Did anyone tell you you've got a line of bullshit that..." Cody grunted as Jim expertly tugged all of his cock free, "... seemingly won't stop?"
"You think I'm bullshitting when I say you've got a horse cock?" Jim asked, his eyes riveted on Cody's erection, his right hand stroking loose flesh gently up and down around Cody's solid inner cock core. "Bullshitting is when you call a four-inch cock a monster. Calling a horse cock a horse cock is calling a spade a spade."
Jim pulled Cody's cock toward his mouth, much like he would have pulled a lever down on some piece of machinery. Jim licked. His tongue had a way of curling up and over Cody's cock head, tickling sensuously as it went.
"Mmmmmm," Jim moaned, savoring the taste of those juices his right hand had milked from Cody's cock and which Jim's tongue had hungrily claimed.
Cody placed more of his weight against the bleacher support. He took a few shuffling side steps to open his thighs wider. He worked the crease of his ass further around the pole running up along his back.
Cody gave a few quick glances in all directions from where someone might have been coming.
But, there was no one beneath the bleachers but Cody and Jim. There was no one even sitting on the bleachers. Jim had obviously chosen his spot well.
And, out on the floor, Fletcher was still systematically beating at the punching bag. Cody wondered where his father got the energy. As long as Cody had been watching, Fletcher had kept up without a pause.
Jim's pursed lips touched Cody's cock head while he sucked. Cody's knob and three of his eleven cock inches disappeared into Jim's mouth.
Cody's cock head hit Jim's bony palate to deflect into the opening of his throat. The cock left behind it a trailing of clear juices that fed Jim's taste buds a faintly salty flavor.
At the punching bag, Fletcher's taped fists hit, hit, hit.
Jim pulled his mouth free of Cody's cock, looking up at Cody.
"Like it so far, stud?" Jim asked.
"You talk too much," Cody told him.
Jim chuckled and went back to Cody's cock. With a swiftness that surprised Cody no end, Jim swallowed the prick from head, to roots in one healthy swallow.
Automatically, Cody's hands came to Jim's head, his fingers nestling in the blond hair. Jim's hair was silky. If it had grown damp in the shower which Jim had taken after his exercise, it was not damp now. It was soft and flowed sensuously, catching the available light to turn blond, almost white.
"I like it so far," Cody whispered. "I like it a lot. If it gets any better, I just might turn queer."
Cody could smile at the humor in that. Cody figured be was already about as queer as they came, enjoying most every minute of his life since accepting that reality.
Jim's chin pressed into the cushion formed by Cody's already contracting scrotum. He blew warm gusts into the forest of black hair clustered about the base of Cody's prick.
Jim found himself wondering if Cody were gay. There was certainly nothing about Cody that said he was gay. But, then, the two of them had already gone over that ground before. You could be just as butch as Cody was and still be gay on the side. Aside from that, it seemed highly doubtful that anyone as good looking as Cody was, as excellently built, as well hung, could have possibly gotten this far without one or more cock-hungry gays willingly bowing down to worship at his luscious cock erection.
Not that it really mattered on damn bit whether one or a thousand mouths had passed this way before Jim's mouth. No matter what Jim had said about preferring straights, he really wasn't one of those guys who got off only on seducing straights. Jim got off on men, period -- gay or straight men -- if they looked a certain way and acted a certain way. And Cody fit the bill, whether straight or gay.
"Good... good... good," Cody whispered as Jim's taut lips munched his knotted cock. His cock twitched inside of Jim's throat.
Jim felt Cody's fingers clamping in his scalp to slowly begin pulling his face back up along the length of hard cock.
Cody moved his ass against the bleacher support pole, his hips revolving to fuck Jim's face in sensuously circular motions.
Jim's face proceeded upward, his lips holding firm. His mouth reached the groove caused by the flaring of Cody's cock head, pausing there. Cody didn't insist Jim come up any further. In fact, Cody now seemed anxious to have Jim quickly return to the base of those cock inches his mouth had just been persuaded to surrender.
"Eat me, stud," Cody said, watching his father who had finally quit beating the punching bag and had stepped back from it.
Fletcher's muscular body was soaked with sweat. Even across the distance that separated Fletcher from his son, he looked as if he had just stepped fully clothed from the shower. His t-shirt was plastered to his body. His gym shorts were wet and molded to his legs so that Cody thought he could make out his father's cock-bulged crotch and the elastic straps that molded his jockstrap to his hairy, studly body.
Fletcher's biceps and triceps had been pumped to new, impressive dimensions. His thigh muscles were tight. His calves had gone to triangular shapes.
Although no longer beating the bag, Fletcher wasn't still. He was dancing on the balls of his feet like a boxer, his right and then his left arm extending at intervals to slug phantoms in the air.
Jim's face headed back down toward Cody's balls in a swallow that took all of Cody's cock inches with the same ease of Jim's original fall over the hard prick.
And, Cody, for a quick moment, thought Fletcher could see him. Anyway that's what it seemed in that Fletcher had stopped, standing there and staring right to the seeming spot where Cody stood beneath the bleachers.
Look at your son getting his monster cock sucked! Cody mouthed, not actually getting the words out of his mouth.
Want your rocks off, Daddy? Cody asked silently. Step right up and let Jim here be of service. Jim would undoubtedly really get off on doing a father-son duo. Maybe Cody and Fletcher could simultaneously feed their fat cocks to Jim's mouth.
And, how would it feel to have his father's cock mated to Cody's cock and held within the hugging warmth of Jim's mouth and throat?
Cody got a shiver of pleasure that touched each and every nerve in his body. Following on the heel of that pleasure was the disappointment of discovering Fletcher apparently had no idea at all of what his son was doing beneath the bleachers. Because, while Cody watched, Fletcher went back to his methodic pounding of the punching bag.
Cody's balls continued jerking upward. Cody's scrotum, once flaccid, had now grown more and more compact as the pleasure had contracted it to a tighter and tighter fit around his cum-flooded nuts.
Jim rode his face back up to Cody's cock head and then back down again to the base. Up and down. Up and down. And, despite Cody's healthy cock dimensions, each of Jim's downward slides pushed his lips securely into his black pubic hair. All of Jim's upward slides brought his lips to a gumming of the fist-sized cock head.
Cody swallowed, feeling his throat muscles going tighter and tighter.
Cody blinked his eyes, finding his view of his father became slightly blurred through his dilating pupils.
Jim was well into the rhythm of his fuck by now his hands had moved around Cody's body to heartily clasp the ass cheeks and then begin kneading the pants-covered buns.
"Suck me... suck me," Cody moaned, feeling more and more pleasure spiraling upward from his mouth-molested cock.
And, as his ecstasy increased, Cody couldn't help retaining his previous fantasy of his father joining in to convert this sexual twosome into a three-way.
Cody shut his eyes and pictured Fletcher there with him, up so close that Cody could smell the funky, masculine smells of sweat clinging to his father's body.
And, what if Fletcher pushed Jim out of the way, saying: "I want to suck my son's cock!" What then? What if Fletcher dropped to his knees, his large right hand pulling Cody's stiff prick to Fletcher's sensuous lips? What if Fletcher sucked his son's cock so deeply into father throat that son cock head would threaten to give battle with his Adam's apple?
"Christ!" Cody moaned. The pleasure derived from his being sucked combined with his fantasy, produced a shuddering of pure, unadulterated joy that sent the young man's body into a series of short, violent spasms.
Cody opened his eyes and realized his visions of his father there with him beneath the bleachers were pure imagination, because Fletcher was still across the room, still beating the punching bag, still thoroughly unaware that Cody stood with his cock out only a few yards away, getting sucked closer and closer to climax by one hell of an attractive, young stud.
Still, whether or not Fletcher had physically joined in the festivities, his imagined participation had given Cody more pleasure than Cody would have ordinarily derived from the experience he was presently undergoing.
"Oh, Jesus, you do that good... good... good," Cody said. Jim once again sucked up Cody's prick to the hair-haloed roots. "You do that so... so... so... fucking good."
"Mmmmmmmm," Jim moaned over his mouthful. The vibrations trembled along the entire length of Cody's swollen cock.
Cody felt his orgasm approaching rapidly. Jim, with intuitive perception, recognized the approach of Cody's cum. Jim prepared for the deluge he knew for a fact had to be contained in Cody's bull like balls.
Jim reached his right hand around Cody's thigh and found the grapefruit-sized sac containing the cum-ballooned balls. Jim's fingers expertly massaged Cody's priming nuts. The resulting pain somehow supplemented rather than detracted from his pleasure.
"Oh, you stud... sucking... sucking... stud," Cody moaned, his hips fucking his cock uncontrollably into Jim's face.
Jim, now as anxious for the taste of Cody's cum as Cody was to give it to him, clamped his left hand deeper into the muscle of Cody's ass cheek. Jim's right hand fondled the balls more hurriedly. Jim's mouth corkscrewed its way, one more time, over Cody's massively uplifted prick.
"Jesus!" Cody grunted. "Jesus... fucking, Jesus... fucking, Jesus!"
Suddenly, Cody's nuts were in eruption. Cody's pelvis bucked forward to flatten Jim's eating face. Cody's hands pushed Jim's mouth even tighter about the roots of his exploding cock.
"Aaaagghrrunngh!" Cody moaned, trying to control any long or loud verbal announcements of the fireworks going off in his chest, his belly, and his brain, for fear someone besides Jim might hear him.
Cody's leg and stomach muscles tauted. Cody's body jerked as it danced out his pleasure. Gallons of thick cum seemed to be flooding from his nuts to exit within the vacuum formed by Jim's sucking mouth and throat.
Jim was only too eager to take the offered mouthfuls. As he swallowed, his right hand continued to work Cody's balls, his left hand continued to knead Cody's ass cheek.
Jim growled around the trembling plug of cock meat, sucking desperately for more and more of Cody's streamers of male goo. Jim's cheeks concaved around the length of Cody's erupting prick. Jim's suctioning mouth made lewd, wet noises as runny cum was drawn down his throat.
"Eat me... eat me... eat me," Cody chanted, wondering if his cock was ever going to stop its pulsing, wondering if his balls were ever going to drain the river of thick, white cum.
Jim ate all right. Jim ate until Cody's cock had not only quit blasting but was completely empty of even the stray cum that normally would have managed to hide within Cody's prick.
When Jim was satisfied he had it all, he pulled free of Cody's cock, giving one final lick in parting.
Before getting to his feet, Jim proceeded to skillfully place Cody's cock back behind the open fly and seal up Cody's pants crotch with a closed zipper.
Jim then came to a standing position, licking his lips in a slightly lascivious way that proclaimed, more than wards could have, just how thoroughly Jim had enjoyed himself.
"How was it, stud?" Jim asked. He, of course, already knew the answer. There could have been no way Cody couldn't have enjoyed what he had just been through. However, some straight studs, made guilty as hell by the pleasure had from getting their cocks sucked by another guy, often made attempts to deny the pleasure anyway. Jim was wondering if Cody was going to be one of those sorry jackasses.
"So good, I've decided to return the favor," Cody said.
Out of all the noise in the room, Cody could still make out the distinct thump of his father beating the punching bag.
Cody's statement had momentarily left Jim speechless. Of all he had expected Cody to say, of all Cody could have said, this suggestion that Cody might be willing to suck Jim's cock hadn't even crossed his mind.
"You think you're the only hunky stud who knows how to swing his head on a humpy piece of male meat?" Cody asked, smiling at Jim's amazed expression. "Naw. There are a few of us around who can give you a run for your money."
Before Jim could find the words to answer anything, Cody had dropped to his knees and was beginning to open the zipper at Jim's fly.
"Of course, you must promise not to fall in love with me," Cody said, looking up. "Usually that's what a guy does once I've gone down on his cock."
"You bastard!" Jim finally managed with a loud and thoroughly amused laugh. "You Goddamned, hunky, handsome bastard!"
Thump... thump... thump... went the sound of Fletcher's taped fists pummeling the punching bag. The sound merely echoed the pulsating of Jim's thick and heavy cock as Cody's experienced fingers pried that large cock mast out of its confinement.
And, when Cody went down on Jim's big prick, Cody was mentally going down over his father's blood-gutted cock meatiness!