chest

It's a scene. It's a blast. London town 2000. Guys are out and proud strutting their stuff. Everyone has a niche ... on the scene. The bars and clubs you go to ... and the ones you don't. Inevitably ...if you go to the same places often enough you get to know the other punters. And that's what it's all about. Isn't it? The validation that you're out ... looking and feeling good ... ready to get sexy, horny and physical with another guy. By mutual consent of course.
Malcolm was 23 years old. 5'11" wavered around 165lbs. He was lean and fit. You could see he was a young ... man ... good looking, wide smile on a fresh, eager face. His green eyes shinning with the excitement of whatever they were looking at. He had light brown hair. But it was so cropped (No 1) it didn't signify. His chest was 40" and his fit body about 30" round the waist. He worked out in the gym and worked his body's youthful propensity to be defined and hard. He was employed as the controller of dispatch riders. It was all verbal ... but it was a rough old business. Malcolm relished the safe distance, but highly testosterone and CC fuelled interactions that made up his working day. Out of work he was a young stud on his manor. He had a bachelor apartment and bachelor ways. He had his mates ... and then he had his fucks. For him the high point of his week was to go out at the weekend and find a guy to fuck. Oh yeah, I failed to mention he had a 6" uncut cock. Not a huge dick but he thought he knew how to use it. He liked to fuck guys. Drive them wild with his internal dick to ass stimulation. Most often while they looked up at him. Smiling or grimacing ... satisfaction.
Then there was Pete. 27 years old. 6'tall. 180lbs. This guy was what's called 'built'. He wasn't pumped up ... but he was all there in the sexy body stakes. 44" chest and 33" waist. His arms and pecs so defined they could have been implants. His six pack stomach ... decorated by a trail of black hair that led to his 8" uc cock. Not to focus too much on the body ... hhhmmm ... Pete had a handsome masculine face ... his jaw square and his brow furrowed. He had black hair ... slightly longer than fashionable ... but not what one would call long. He had piercing dark brown eyes ... the whites of his eyes as white as his gorgeous teeth. He could have been a model ... or a porn star ... can't dudes like him just do what the fuck they want? Anyhow ... Pete was a security guard ... at a government building. He didn't have high goals. He liked the safety of the government contract. He liked his life.
These two studs seemed to frequent the same venues. Over time they noticed that they both did the same kind of thing. Hung out with a few guys ... danced some ... picked up and left with a date ... score. If there is such a definition ... Malcolm and Pete were the hunters ... not the eager prey. So they clocked each other ... doing their thing in the bars and clubs. They never clashed over lays ... they were introduced at some point and thereafter nodded politely if they crossed paths. And so it was.
Then at some point ... Pete couldn't actually put his finger on when ... he noticed that Malcolm was looking at him in a different way. Pete caught him watching. Not cruising ... but watching him. Like he was real fascinated. At first it kind of creeped Pete out. Then he remembered that Malcolm had a reputation as a cool, non-freak guy. Pete shrugged it off. Tried not to give it too much mental energy. Then he noticed they were getting closer. I mean ... in the bars and clubs ... most times Pete saw Malcolm across some space. Recently and regularly he had noticed that Malcolm seemed to be, 'not too far away'. It made the eye contact more intense. Pete was now getting a feeling that Malcolm was interested ... in something. It was the 'what'that he couldn't figure out. On the grand scale of things, Pete had surmised that Malcolm was kind of at the other end of the scale from him. He knew Malcolm was 23. So he was just getting into his stride. Just coming up on his wave of abundant sexual opportunities ... about to ride high for a few years on the Young Stud fuck train. That's if he didn't burn out. Pete thought of himself as 'over 25'. He'd worked his looks and pulling power for the last four or five years. He'd done them ... and in plenty. He'd made sure he had his turn and made the most of it. In the sometimes skewed analysis of early manhood ... he thought he was now on a managed and dignified decline. He would be 30 and fabulous. He had no regrets about moving on and making way for the 'new young studs'. Man this youthful rationalisation!
'What does he think we'd get up to?'It was a Friday night ... or early Saturday morning ... both studs were in a club. Pete was talking to himself. He had noticed Malcolm checking him out ... again. 'Unless he's decided he'd like to get fucked? Try it with an expert?'As he looked at Malcolm ... that didn't seem too plausible. He was acting just the same ... he looked just the same. As Pete now took his turn to study Malcolm ... he wondered about the kind of sex two studs would have. Two 'tops'...like equals ... neither wanting to be sub ... so two studs. Pete was getting a hardon. His body was ahead of his mind. He still didn't have a clear idea about how such a sexual encounter would pan out. 'Suppose we'd show off our cocks and bodies then wank one another off.'He was still thinking to himself and looking over at Malcolm. Malcolm suddenly looked back and they made eye contact. Pete nodded and smiled. Then Malcolm and a couple of guys hit the dance floor.
Seeing Malcolm moving decidedly upped the ante for Pete. Watching the guy dance around. His masculine young body flexing and gyrating to the music. Pete noticed that Malcolm had a cute, awesome ass ... but he gathered that was just scenery ... he focused on the bulge in the front of the guy's jeans. Yeah looked like he was packing something ... with sizeable balls too. Pete's cock was now making a clear shaft outline in his jeans. He was caught up in his train of thought. Work shopping the sexual possibilities of getting up close and personal with Malcolm engrossed him completely. As he watched that bulge move and swivel around with the beat ... he wanted to feel his body ... his crotch ... his hard cock up against Malcolm's. He wanted to find out what kind of energy there was between two stud bodies and two stud cocks. 'Wow ... shit ... damn ... why wasn't this horny before? ...This is so fucking horny! !'Pete was still in his cocktocock revelation when he felt a hand on his half hard dick. A definite squeeze. One of his mates had seen him daydreaming. "I can see you're up for it! !"His mate spoke loudly over the music. "Who's the lucky asshole?" Pete made no reply. His eyes went back to looking at Malcolm on the dance floor. His head made no movement to give away who he was looking at. He shrugged his shoulders and his mate laughed and walked away.
On the dance floor Malcolm was pleased and yet not pleased that Pete was obviously ... finally ... giving him some attention. He was instantly conscious that he would feel far more comfortable if this fellow stud was contemplating him standing at the bar ... or standing anywhere ... just not dancing. Malcolm felt that every move was 'camp' 'girlie'...he soon stopped dancing and walked back to where his drink was located. His mates didn't follow. He was then kind of standing alone. He saw Pete's eyes follow him. 'This feels better. Somewhat better.' He thought.
The way the two studs kept looking at each other ... you would have thought they were sizing one another up for a tussle. Their facial expressions slightly tense. Their bodies on full ... 'I'm being scanned' mode. Neither felt really comfortable. They were both used to doing the cruising. In this situation it was hard to suss out who was cruising who.
Nothing happened that night ... except they both went home alone for a change ... and they both jacked off visualising man2man sex ... with each other. A cliche I know. But it's all part of the build up of anticipation. How that anticipation of new sexual delights manifests in reality ... that's the motivation ... the urge to make it happen. They had great wanks.
Just a few days later Pete had gone to a bar on Old Compton Street after work ... about 6pm. It was a Tuesday I think, anyhow, there were just a few people in there. Pete got his drink and found a spot to stand near the window when Malcolm walked in. Pete kind of stood up straight when he saw him. It was an unconscious response. The man of his current wank fantasies had just walked into the bar. He got a twinge in his cock to boot.
Malcolm did not see Pete at first. He ordered a drink and took a couple of tastes of it before he turned round. When he did he see Pete, it was Malcolm's turn to pull himself up, instantly. Pete saw him do it ... recognised that he had done the same. It had looked as if Malcolm was going to take a step forward as he turned around. He'd not only pulled up fast ... but it now seemed that he was unsure where he might move to. The guys had made eye contact. Neither of them knew anyone else in the bar. Neither would be cramping any style at 6. 10pm on a Tuesday night. Why wouldn't they talk? ...Then again why should they talk?
They were both thinking this same thought as Malcolm turned around to face the bar again. He had to regroup. Pete pondered walking right over and saying 'Hi'. Malcolm pulled himself together, turned around and nodded and smiled at Pete. There was nothing else for it. Pete smiled and nodded. Malcolm walked right over to him. He didn't want to wait for any 'come on' flick of the head. That was what he did to potential fucks. There was no way Pete was ever going to get to fuck him. He was just intrigued that's all. See what two studs can get up to. If he was going to pick a stud ... Pete was the one for him.