Naked men

The man beside me squeezes my pec, then rakes his nails across my chest. He pinches my nipple, twisting and pulling. He opens his hand, palm up, waiting for something, I’m not sure what. The teenager moans, face against the wall, moving faster, his slick cock plunging in and out of his hairless boy pussy. Remembering the teens warm-up routine, I take the man’s hand and move it to my mouth, licking his open palm. But instead of a hand job the man begins a strange ululation, a sort of high-pitched howl you might hear at a Bedouin street rally. Naked Turks stream in, crowding our private fuck fest with brawny bodies. Uncertain what I’ve done, I pull away naked men from naked men the finger fuck and take a step back. For a naked men moment, nobody moves. Heavy breathing mingles with a nearby shower. I scan faces, listening to their breathing. Somebody chuckles, a deep, patriarchal laugh. Others join in, and soon we’re all laughing. The autoerotic fuck-show teen gets hoisted onto a big man’s shoulders. Others gather round them, and he’s paraded like a prince from the room. Hands urge me to follow, and we move through the doorway toward the pools.

The crowd begins a rhythmic clapping. Other bathers appear. The big man, trailed by admirers, carries the fuck-show teenager around the poolside, heading for the runway. Young men leap into the water, splashing and kicking, while other ones wade out to the naked men steaming depths. They whistle the teens over, grab at their slippery bodies, kiss their naked men faces, give suck to their darting tongues. A bearded man with an eye patch wraps a wide, hairy arm around one man’s hips and pulls him naked men back toward his eager mouth. He buries his face deep in the teenagers ass. Other teens slide over and around them like otters, begging their turn. My friend from the locker room drops to his knees in front of me. He looks so hopeful, like a pound puppy ready to please. He wraps his hands around my boner, then drags it across his lips, painting them with precome. I snatch a handful of hair, then push my cock down his lovelorn throat. I slow-fuck his thin, dark face. He whimpers, hungry for my jizz. Someone kneels behind me. A tongue explores my fuckhole. On the tile runway the show boy clings to the big man’s back. The crowd parts, and a tall man in purple robes steps from the shadows. With shaved head and a barbell mustache, he moves with purpose, commanding respect. Behind the show boy his robe falls away; the room gasps at his thick body, its naked men wild, roving, gypsy tattoos. He spits on his hand, strokes his cock, then shoves it up the show boy’s ass. The smiling boy faints, impaled like a rag doll. The gypsy king’s hand supports the boy’s chest, and the big man steps away, joining the others, clapping and laughing, urging on the gypsy, who moves like a shaman in a slow, undulating circle, thrusting into the boy with naked men deep, powerful strokes. The naked men man at my feet stops to naked men watch. I grab his face and stuff my cock back into his mouth.