Camo Hat • Chapter Five
by Sean Reid Scott
Posted: in the before time :: Approx. 5,500 words
T WAS ALMOST SURREAL. I MEAN, after I had just had a second orgasm while being totally turned on my Cameron’s body, he handled it like nothing had happened-- either positive or negative. Not that he seemed to be avoiding the issue; but it was as if it was just another normal thing to do-- like watching TV or eating.
I didn’t know what to make of him.
I mean, I would have thought that after we consummated our friendship like that (if you can call it that) one would either have signs of remorse and embarrassment, or one would feel the freedom to take the sexual expressions to the next level. But Cam didn’t seem to think like this. He continued to occasionally tease about the episodes, so that indicated that he wasn’t trying to stuff the issue away and avoid the obvious fact that his body made me have huge unplanned orgasms; and yet he didn’t at all take advantage of that fact and initiate closer contact. However, we did have closer contact-- but it came across as totally platonic. He hugged me occasionally, but it was like he was just a “hugger” kind of a person. He’d touch me, occasionally, but I never got the idea that he was making a move on me. I was totally baffled by this guy.
But I chalked most of it up to the fact that, being of the gay persuasion, I had the tendency to “read things” into things. It goes back to the talking thing. Jock-straight guys just don’t need to talk as much. Gay guys (at least this one) seem to be more communicative and sensitive. I figured that Cam was just reacting to this “thing” between us like a true straight jock guy might react to the normal progression of a friendship. It was confusing, but I was able to live with it.
Adding to the whole confusion was the verbal banter that we had quickly entered back into after we had finished the “session.”
“I know you are, but what am I.”
Within an hour I did indeed find myself in Cam’s bed.
And he was fast asleep on the hide-away bed in his living room.
I had never gotten so many mixed signals from a person in my life. And yet, for some reason it didn’t bother me. I’d have been willing to put up with a lot of mixed signals in order to be this guy’s friend. As I lay there in his king size bed, staring at the ceiling, I was amazed at the position I had found myself in. Never in a million years would I have ever predicted that I’d be lying here in the bed of this huge muscleman. If, after Camo Hat walked into that cafeteria a few days before, you would have whispered in my ear, “In a few days you’re going to be in that guy’s bed,” I’d have died laughing. Even though he wasn’t in the bed with me, it was still totally overwhelming that he let me sleep in it. That, you would only do for a friend.
At about 7:45 the next morning, Cameron walked into the room. He was wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts, both of which were drenched in sweat. As he made his way into his bathroom I said, “Have a good workout?”
He smiled at me and said, “Yeah. Where’s my breakfast?” He closed the door to his bathroom-- leaving it ajar just a few inches.
“We’re going out, remember?” I said loudly, rolling over to face the ceiling. I rubbed my eyes and stretched beneath the silky covers.
“Oh yeah, he said.” I could hear him turn on the shower, and he made some other moving-around-sounds in there. I assumed he was taking off his clothes.
Hmmm, I thought. I think I need to use the bathroom right now. The concept intrigued me quite a bit.
Naw. That would be pretty obvious.
But just as I dismissed the idea, I heard him say over noise of the running water, “If you need to come in and use the bathroom, help yourself. I’ll just be in the shower for a few minutes.”
I immediately let out a soft “Scooby-do” “Hurmphf?” kind of questioning-expression. Well, since you put it that way...
I slipped out from underneath the covers and went in. The shower was on my right. It was quite a large bathroom for an apartment. I suppose he needed the room, just to maneuver around. Anyway, the shower was actually a bathtub, enclosed by sliding glass doors. Cam had turned on the fan, and that, combined with the rushing water, made it a little loud in there. The glass shower doors were steamed up sufficiently to let me see Cameron’s hulking physique, but they didn’t allow me to see nearly as much as I wanted. Still, seeing him soap up and shampoo his head, those gargantuan arms flexing as he did so-- and seeing that massive torso taper down to a narrow waist, and then expand again down to two legs that could have doubled for columns in front of the Supreme Court building-- is was enough to get me excited real fast.
I had to hurry and piss, so that I could get it out before I got erect.
I pulled my boxers halfway down my thighs, as is my habit. The toilet was next to the shower, and as I stood there and started to go, he was right next to me. Behind the steamy, wet glass his physique filled the side of my vision even though I was careful to look straight ahead. Still, I could see that he was giving himself a very soapy rubdown; and in fact his large hands started to massage what had to be a third leg growing out of his crotch-- just as my stream started to trickle into the bowl.
As I held myself to aim, my hand became more than just a positioning tool; I started to “feel” myself, and before I was done, I had to lean forward to keep the stream pointing downward. I was getting hard-- fast.
Oh god, please, no.
Cam kept lathering himself all over, returning to that very special place frequently, and spending what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time down there.
“So, where do you think we should go?” he said as he washed himself. His voice was loud, but low enough that I could tell that he knew I was standing right there.
I tried to shake the last dribble of urine off my cock, but, again, I had to lean forward quite a bit. It was almost fully erect now. “Uh, I don’t know... You have a favorite place?” I steadied myself with one hand on the tank of the toilet. My other hand lingered on my penis just a second, and I slowly and very lightly stroked myself; I couldn’t help it.
It was the most sensual stroke I had ever given myself. My cock was so damn hard.
Suddenly, the water was off, and the glass door to the shower was open. I turned my head and there he was, totally nude, totally wet and totally just a foot or so away from me. His dripping shiny body was unbelievable. More muscle than you could shake a stick at-- and yet, I seemed to be attempting to do just that, so to speak. I was frozen. I couldn’t move.
The fan must have been on a timer, because at just that instant, as if by his own command, it switched off with a click from the wall.
Total silence. Except for an occasional drip and trickling of water.
At that moment, my boxers slipped down over my thighs, and fell to the floor.
And then, the smile. Oh holy fuckin’ shit. His genuinely friendly smile pierced my soul. He just stood there and grinned. It wasn’t sheepish, it was just confident and friendly. I pushed off the tank of the toilet and stood erect-- in more ways than one. My cock throbbed in the air, stabbing it, as it were, with each beat of my heart, so stiff that it almost bobbed against my belly button.
He was like a cartoon. Insane development of chest, shoulders, arms, abs, quads and thighs; but so proportionally tied together that it made you wonder if there could ever be a more perfect human male specimen on the planet. And his skin-- dripping with clean, clear water-- it was tan, clear and thin; showing off every rippling muscle to its optimum proportion.
Then my gaze landed on it. At the sight of it, I could feel my own penis jump. I don’t want to get all sacrilegious on you here, but you know that passage in the Bible where Elizabeth, pregnant with the Apostle John, visits Mary, pregnant with Jesus, and John “jumps” in Elizabeth’s womb at just the sound of Mary’s voice because he knows she holds the baby Jesus in her womb? Well, it was kind of like that. (I know I’m going to hell now...) My cock literally “jumped” when I saw his cock. His penis looked like it might have been partially engorged-- semi-erect-- just from its size. And given his attentions to it a few minutes ago with his soapy hand, I wouldn’t have blamed it for being so. And yet, it hung loose-- pointing lazily downward. Fuuuuuck, it was huge! At the base of his abs-- those twin rows of cobblestone-- a lone, thick vein wandered downward to feed his cock. It was like a pipeline of blood, filling the huge demand that his sex organ must have placed on his cardiovascular system. It disappeared into a manicured tuft of dark brown hair-- cut short and obviously trimmed with great attention to detail, yet without looking like he worshipped the thing. Behind and beneath the almost beer-can thick member, two testicles the size of lemons supported his monster-cock. They seemed to stand guard, two sentinels flanking the valuable penis, both supporting it and feeding it-- at the ready to release their bio-fuel whenever called upon to perform their duty.
They were hairless.
Cam obviously took very good care of himself.
Duh.
I swallowed hard, not able to really comprehend how such a thick, long organ could actually exist. Cameron’s dick would have made the most prodigious porn-star weep with envy. I mean. really-- his cock should be in a museum. If you were to buy a dildo based on a cast made from it, you’d probably return it because of its unbelievable proportions. I’m sorry, but I just don’t know how else to describe it. If it were any bigger, I would have laughed because it would have been just so over the top.
It laid, comfortably, against his balls-- those gorgeous rocks filled with sperm (can you imagine the genetic wonders inside?) and against his massive quads, those pillars of power that would make the most devoted professional bodybuilder envious. His legs were unreal masses of muscle, covered with networks of blood vessels that could have only been designed by a telephone company. Un-freakin’-believable packs of muscle rippled on them.
“Morning wood?” Cameron said as if he really meant it. I mean, he was really serious! My cock was obviously more hard than any morning wood would ever get, but he just seemed to think it was normal. Maybe he was simply used to this kind of reaction when guys saw him nude and wet. Hell, I don’t know. All I know was that I was getting tired of being mortified in his presence.
“Could you hand me that towel?” He asked, pointing behind me. I turned around-- my cock swinging with my torso and pointing right at him-- and took a towel off the rack that hung on the wall. I handed it to him, and he took it from me, very slowly, allowing our common grasp of the towel to extend a few seconds. We looked into each others’ eyes.
“You going to let me have it, or am I going to have to wrestle you for it...” he finally asked.
I let go. “Sorry,” I kind of choked out.
Cam didn’t say anything. He took the towel and started to dry himself. I won’t go into detail here because I would have a hard time keeping my fingers on the keyboard if I got too much into what it was like watching him do this. As he dried, he nonchalantly said “Yeah, I get morning wood a lot too. Sometimes it can be annoying.”
He kept drying. His muscles flexed and bulged. My mind was frozen. I just stood there. Watching. And he didn’t seem to think anything of it. “I wonder if they really know what causes it,” he continued.
Well, I knew what was causing mine, but I wasn’t about to offer up the explanation. “Yeah,” I said, looking down at my blind eye, staring up at us both. Cam obviously didn’t seem to have a problem with this situation, and that helped me relax.
And still he dried.
Finally, he was done enough to get out of the shower, and he stopped drying. Of course, me and my frozen CPU-- I just stood there like a dork.
“You going to let me out?” he smiled.
“Oh. Sorry.” I stepped away from the toilet, giving him room to get out of the shower. He stepped sideways; his broad shoulders required it. As he positioned himself, his hip brushed against my erection, and he made no attempt to move away. I froze for a second and looked down at the contact we were making. Cam continued to dry his face and neck, still allowing my drooling cock to rest against his hip. As he bent over to work on his legs, I couldn’t take any more of it and I stepped back.
I moved in front of the sink, facing away from Cam, but having a wonderful view of his body in the mirror. He seemed oblivious to this fact. He lightly patted his skin all over, exposing everything to my lusting eyes.
Shit, my cock ached.
I just stood at the sink, trying to look busy at who knows what-- washing my hands, blowing my nose-- whatever. Finally, Cameron was done patting down his beefy body and he moved over to the sink next to me. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Did shoulders today,” he said. With that, he slowly squeezed himself into a most-muscular pose. Veins and vessels popped out all over. His leanness was matched only by his excessive vascularity. His traps grew into such huge mounds that I wondered if they’d tear the skin! His delts were the most mind-boggling pair of melons that you could imagine. And his triceps, with their deep, deep ravine separating them from the shoulders-- I couldn’t help but let out an involuntary “Shiiiiiiit.”
He didn’t seem to mind my attentions. He kept posing his muscles for me, rippling them for what could have easily been five minutes. My hard-on screamed for release, yet it was bound and determined to hold on until commanded to ejaculate.
As Cameron held his upper body in a tight pose, showing off his physique for me, his eyes moved down (in the mirror) to my cock, which was now dribbling out large amounts of clear, slippery precum. “Hmmmm,” he smiled, relaxing his pose. “They don’t usually do that with a morning woody.”
I dropped my head in shame and put my hands onto the marble counter. Cam moved behind me. Right behind me. “Maybe I can help you with that,” he said. His big, strong right hand slowly slipped around my waist, and his left hand moved up to my shoulder to pull me back to an erect position again. With the softest touch that a hand could give, his open right hand gently moved onto my cock, tickling it ever-so-subtly. I moaned and closed my eyes-- but they stayed closed for only a moment. I couldn’t get over the scene; as I looked into the mirror, Cameron’s Herculean body imposed itself behind me, dwarfing me completely. All of his body parts extended out beyond my own. His height; his broad shoulders; his wide lats. It was unreal. The only place where I had a bigger measurement than him was my waist; his svelte waistline narrowed behind my own. Then there were those legs. Mightier than boulders, his quads looked like each of them must have had the dimension of his waist.
His gentle caress of my penis almost made me choke. He soon realized that in order to touch more of it than just the ridge that the erection exposed on the outside, he would have to physically pry it away from my abs-- it was that hard now.
And so, he did.
His strong fingers and thumb wrapped themselves behind my hard shaft and oh-so-gently pulled it away from my stomach.
He slowly began stroking me. Very slowly, and very gently. His grip was almost totally open-- just enough to maintain control of my penis, but not enough so that his palm, or even all of the skin on his fingers, touched my raging hard-on.
“Uooooh,” I moaned. My whole body was tight, and very near climax.
Cam must have sensed this, because his fingers opened, and his hand moved off my cock, down to my thigh. “Not yet, buddy,” he said softly. “You need to have some self control.” His hand lightly rubbed my leg, moving inside to my crotch, occasionally brushing under my balls. I tried to regain control, taking deep, slow breaths. When Cam was satisfied that I wasn’t going to cum, he slowly changed the course of his hand and began to vector it in a pattern that allowed closer and closer passes by my nuts and cock. Finally, he moved his gentle hand onto my penis again and, with open fingers, gently caressed it, only occasionally pulling on the skin and tightening his fingers-- only occasionally.
Again, I quickly began to lose control, closing my eyes and tipping my head back.
Cameron released his fingers from my cock and moved his hand down once again. “Not so fast, buddy. Just relax. You don’t cum until I tell you, okay?” His hand moved back into the thigh-inner-thigh pattern again.
“Okay,” I whispered, closing my eyes and breathing hard again.
Cam put his other hand on my butt, and I jumped.
“Just relax, dude. Calm down,” he encouraged. He was bent slightly, and his lips were next to my ear, so he didn’t have to speak loudly. He looked at me in the mirror, and I at him.
Again, when he felt confident about my ability to continue without ejaculating, he moved back up onto my genitals. Shit, his touch was so erotically soft! More long, slow, gentle strokes.
My cock stiffened to its hardest. He traced his fingertip along the ridge on the outside of my cock and rubbed my precum into my skin.
“Ohhh,” I moaned.
I was reaching the point of no return. I held the countertop tightly, my knuckles turning white. I raised up onto my tiptoes and could feel my nuts begin to push out their liquid.
“Not yet, my friend. Not yet,” he said, backing off just in the nick of time. “You don’t cum, dude. Not until I give you permission.”
With that, Cam stepped back from me and said, “Watch.” He lifted his arms and started flexing.
Oh gawd! His arms are enormous!
His muscles tightened into mountains, laced with veins and rippling with striations and muscle fibers.
“Control, man. Control,” he reminded me.
Then he lowered his arms and turned around, facing away from me. He raised his arms slowly, again, and the cuts in his shoulders and back astounded me. I let out an audible gasp. He flexed his biceps again, and the peaks on his arms grew and tightened. It was as if a baseball had grown out of a football! As if his monster, ripped arms and shoulders weren’t enough to put me over, he lowered his guns and flared his back so I could see his lats.
Bigger than the Grand Coulee Dam, his back spread, and again, I gasped. “Feel my lats, Matt,” he coaxed. “Put your hands on them, and leave them there.”
I obeyed, and my feeble, trembling hands wrapped over his tanned, warm wings. Shit, they were huge, and hard.
“I’m gunna cum!” I cried.
“No. You’re not,” he ordered. “Keep your hands right there, and control yourself. You cum, and the party’s over, dude.”
I swallowed hard. It hurt. I closed my eyes and gulped. I tightened my squeeze on his lats. As if he wanted to drive me insane, Cam took a step backward as he relaxed his pose. His naked ass met my throbbing, dribbling cock and he held it there-- my hot dog gently resting against his bun. I slid my hand down to his waistline and just stood there, making mumbling, unintelligible sounds.
“Move your hands onto my glutes, man. Then up and down my back and waist.”
I did as I was told. It was pure torture to keep my cock tight, forcing it to hold off as my hands ran over his back side. He flexed his butt and it almost seemed to wrap around my cock pole.
“Ohhhhh, pl-- pl-- please don’t do that. I can’t hold off any longer!” I begged.
He kept flexing his ass muscles and they rippled against my penis. A huge drop of silvery precum fell off the tip of my head and made its way down his crack, losing itself somewhere near his cherry.
I must have tightened my grip on his waist, because Cam stood erect and moved away from me right then. He turned around and moved behind me, and put his hands on my shoulders, positioning me to face the mirror once again-- he right behind me, as before.
He moved his hand back onto my thigh and began the sensual teasing pattern again. After a minute of this, he moved his muscular hand back onto my cock, prying it once again from my abs. He held it tightly, but didn’t push on it. I could feel, and see, it throb in his hand.
“Just a few more minutes, my friend. Hold on,” he said. With that, he pushed down on my penis relatively hard. I went nuts. I panted, trying to fight off the orgasm.
“No, Matt. Not yet.”
He stroked my lightly, and then hard-- but each stroke was very slow-- very controlled.
“I’m gunna cum, Cam. I can’t help it!”
“Not yet, little buddy. Not yet.” His hand continued to stroke me. Slowly. His slow, methodical pace didn’t falter. His long, strong fingers moved up and down, up-- and-- down.
Finally, as if he knew I couldn’t hold off any longer, he said. “Okay, Matt. Go ahead.”
With no further coaxing needed, my cock immediately erupted with a volcano of white molten semen. It burst into the air and onto the marble counter. The second volley plunked all the way up onto the mirror, as did the third and fourth ejaculations. I breathed loudly and hard, groaning with each passionate jerk of my convulsing body.
Cam’ warm hand slid up and down on my throbbing cock, and he squeezed it at just the right times to produce the maximum effect, causing my bursts to continue to set new records of height and mass.
Then he tightened his grip hard, and slowly pressed down on the shaft.
And I cried out in ecstasy. He just held his hand still, and my penis opened and closed in his mighty hand, squirting rope after rope of hard, hot milk into the air.
My sperm slithered down the mirror, as helpless to stop its own course as I was to stop my orgasm.
Cameron, for all the effect he was having on me, didn’t do much else than massage my dick. I leaned backward into his torso, steadying myself, and even nuzzling the back of my head into his chest. And yet he didn’t nuzzle back. He seemed engrossed in my orgasm. His forearm-- as thick as most mens’ upper arms, with its insane network of veins and muscles, rippled as he flexed his fingers around my shaft, milking every last possible drop out of me.
By the time it was over, his mirror and marble sink area was a mess of gooey, white globs of my essence.
And I was reduced to a weak-kneed, wobbling, whimpering man in his grip.
“You okay?” Cameron asked as he let go of my penis.
I whispered, “Yeah.” I steadied myself. “I think I just need to sit down for a minute.”
Without a moment’s notice, Cam picked me up, like a groom would carry a bride, and took me out of the bathroom, back to the bed. He lowered me onto the mattress effortlessly. “Here,” he said. “You just rest. I’ll take care of the bathroom. Seems there’s a little bit of cleaning up I need to do.”
• • • • •
“Matt. Matt.”
I moaned and stretched. My naked body was cool, but not uncomfortable.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you.” Cam stood above me, looking at me. He was still naked, holding his towel in front of his torso. “You must have fallen asleep as soon as I put you on the bed, dude.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said, rubbing my eyes. God, I was tired. Exhausted, really. That orgasm seemed to drain everything out of me. Everything.
“So, you still up to going out for breakfast?”
“Uh, sure.” I moved to get up, and Cam stepped back to get out of my way. He returned into the bathroom while I gathered my senses.
“I was thinking of Eric’s Steakhouse. You ever been there for breakfast?” He was speaking loudly from the bathroom so I could hear him in the bedroom.
“Uh, didn’t know they served breakfast,” I called back.
He poked his head around the door and said, “Excellent steak and eggs, dude.” His cheeks were covered with shaving cream. God, he looked hot that way.
“Sounds good, man,” I said. I looked around the room for my clothes.
Cameron moved back into the bathroom and called, “You taking a shower this morning?”
Oh, yeah. I should probably take a shower.
Just as if nothing had happened, Cam and I maneuvered around each other for a few minutes, and by the time I was ready to step into the shower, he was in his bedroom getting dressed and by the time I got out, he was downstairs waiting for me.
Aside from the stares, breakfast was uneventful-- oh, and of course he had two orders of steak and eggs.
“So, what do you have going today?” Cameron asked as we drove back to his place.
“Just a little work on some web sites,” I said. “Nothing pressing, just some updates.”
“You wanna hang out when you’re done?”
I turned and looked at him. “Sure.” I paused a second. “Uh, but... I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Well. I just want to know... why. Why do you like hanging with me? I mean, I guess I just don’t understand all of this.”
Cam smiled as he drove, and his huge arms gripped the steering wheel comfortably. “I guess I thought you just felt it too, man. Don’t you think we just hit it off? I mean, I hardly know you, but I feel like we’ve been friends for years. I don’t know how to say it another way, without getting all mushy and everything.”
“Mushy?” I probed.
“Aw, heck,” he said. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, what I do know is that you drive me crazy, and you know exactly what I want, and you give it to me.” We pulled into his apartment lot and went inside his apartment.
“Doesn’t it feel funny at all to you?”
“Doesn’t what feel funny...” he asked.
“That I get all-- you know-- excited by you. And you just seem to handle it like it’s nothing unusual.”
“Whatever, man,” he said, plopping his keys on his coffee table. “If you’re uncomfortable around me, or if you don’t like it, there’s the door, man,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Then he stepped close to me and put his hands on my waist. He looked down into my eyes and smiled. His deep dimples and almost blinding-white teeth melted me.
“You’re driving me crazy again,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to look away from his Adonis-face. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?” I pressed.
“Nothin’ to talk about, dude. Talking’s way over-rated, man. I don’t need to explain myself. And you don’t either. If people like me, then fine. If they don’t, then ‘see-ya’. You might try it sometime. Just live dude. Stop analyzing so much. Let things-- including “us”-- take care of themselves.
I was still totally not understanding what he was saying, but being that close, with his hands on my waist, holding my body next to his-- it was getting to me.
And then, Cameron stopped talking. His twinkling eyes looked deep within me. He moved his face to mine, and as his tongue invaded my mouth and his lips enclosed around mine, I moaned and caved at the knees. He quickly moved to hold me up, and embraced me fully. The kiss lasted. And it lasted. He hugged me; and I ran my hands around his back and felt its breadth. He was passionate.
He broke the kiss, gently pulled back, and his eyes continued to twinkle at me. “Matt, I really enjoy you. And I think you enjoy me too.” He pulled back more and looked down at the rod that had stiffened in my pants and grinned. “Yup.” He straightened his arms and examined me. “Dude. Don’t try to analyze it. Don’t work on it. Just accept my friendship. Just accept that I like you and you like me. It doesn’t have to have a label. I’m not into labeling things. What I am into is enjoying life-- and it just seems right, it just seems good that we are friends. Let’s just enjoy each other-- let’s enjoy finding out what it means to enjoy each other.”
My face must have contorted into an expression of total incredulity.
Cam started to laugh. “Dude, I get such a kick out of you! You are the greatest!”
“I-- I just don’t understand you,” I said. “You are like no one I’ve ever met.”
“As are you for me, man. You for me,” he said. “Can we stop with the over-analyzing for now? Maybe later, as we spend more time together we can talk about these things more, but I gotta warn you, I’m not much into talk.”
“I gathered,” I smirked.
Again, Cameron laughed. And I loved it.
He had me in the palm of his hand, and he seemed to know it-- and even enjoy that fact.
He released my hips and said, “Now, you have some computer work that needs done?” He raised his eyebrows in the cutest expression I had seen in about five seconds.
— SRS
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