Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 My Boxer - MM - Kinda romantic.  Thoughts, comments, criticisms, whatever
~~ shadesofextasy@hotmail.com



   The man that I crave is a boxer.  Dark and brooding, he spends his
nights in the sweat-soaked air of the downtown gym surrounded by other
muscular, half-naked men.  When I arrive, he is in a dank corner, his
powerful fists savagely beating the soft sides of a heavy, well-worn bag,
it's commercial logo worn away by countless blows, hanging from the ceiling
by a rusty, squeaking chain.  No air-conditioned health club could ever
hold this man; he prefers the rundown cement walls and pungent air of a
real boxing hall, where gnarled old men stand and smoke cigars while they
search for the next great brawler.  One of them, a short, barrel-chested
veteran, his nose and jaw misshapen from past bouts, is standing near my
boxer, shouting out gruff comments in a thick Eastern European accent,
peppered by biting obscenities.

   I stand hidden in the doorway and watch him dance lightly around the
swaying bag, pummeling it with vicious grace.  His big hands are wrapped
tightly with tape that twist around his wrists and form a ribbon of white
across the deep tan of his forearms.  His bare skin is a dark burnished
copper that contrasts sharply with his simple white shorts.  He is a big
man, well over six feet tall and the lines of his body, the heavy muscles
taut in his arms, have been wrought and hardened by years of training and
self-sacrifice.  He is clearly a man of discipline, retaining that inherent
elegance about his every motion, no matter how bloodthirstily violent they
might seem, an air that draws me to him and makes me stare without even
realizing it.

   He's been working out for quite some time, and his muscled body, naked
save for those white trunks, is dripping with sweat.  His thick black hair
would fall over his eyes were it not for the sweatband, stained with grime
and smoke.  Beads of perspiration spill over ruggedly chiseled features,
glistening droplets clinging to high cheekbones, lips made full and puffy
from enduring punches, and a wide, square jaw smudged with bluish-black
stubble.  The tiny streams turn to rivulets over his broad, bare chest, his
nipples, dark and firm, standing out from the bulky, roughly hewn
pectorals, trickling over the sharp ridges of his stomach before ending in
the light trail of tiny curls leading downwards.

   Watching him work out makes me want him more than anyone I've ever
known. I have yearned for him for a very long time, but have been too timid
to even speak to him, intimidated by his raw, potent masculinity.  Having
seen him naked makes my body burn for him even more.  One day I was in the
locker room when he walked in from the shower, dripping wet, totally nude.
Suddenly his broad chest and narrow hips sole purpose seemed to be to
highlight his deliciously thick penis.  We made eye contact and all I could
think of was "I want your cock in my mouth." But fearful that he would
sense my lust at seeing his unclothed body and be angered by it, I leave
quickly, my mind reeling from what I'd seen.

   I lay on my bed with a faint sheen of perspiration on my body, thinking
about him.  A single sheet covers me to my waist, my soft penis clearly
outlined under the thin muslin.  I can't stop recalling that afternoon,
easily bringing to mind the memorized vivid details of his naked body. 
When I recreate his handsome face and imagine kissing his luscious mouth, I
feel myself stir between my legs.  In my fantasy, he is stirring as well,
that prime cut of man-meat of his nudging against my thigh.  As my grip on
reality loosens and I began to drift, my last conscious thoughts are how
desperately I want to be with him...

   I find myself in a familiar position, lingering behind the door left
slightly ajar, allowing me to peer in at my beautiful brawler but being
obscured from those inside.  He spends two minutes practicing his jabs, the
swift exertion bringing up a fresh coat of sweat over muscles rippling with
caged energy.  After finishing with the bag, leaving it lumpy, misshapen,
he does a quick series of pushups on the dirty gym floor.  Each repetition
is a flowing, controlled motion, the heavy thews of his biceps bunching and
releasing as he presses himself up and down.  He switches to single,
centralized pushes, the thick tendon constricting and releasing before he
bounces to the other arm, his entire body a long, sensuous line, a bundle
of raw strength in precise, seemingly effortless control.

   His gnarled trainer comes over when he is finished, sitting my boxer on
a small wooden stool.  The wizened old man speaks in his heavily accented
growl, spitting out advice laced with affectionate vulgarities for his
favored pupil as he laces a pair of well-worn gloves over the younger man's
hands.  Then the trainer places a mouth guard between my fighter's puffy
lips, slapping him on the cheeks to accentuate his last bits of instruction
before sending him into the ring to await the man he will spar with.  A
large black man in gaudy silk trunks appears in the opposite corner, his
entourage carrying a boombox blaring out bass-heavy rap.  The bulky
middleweight is larger in size but I note the telltale pockets of soft
flesh in his hips, the mark of a man who relies too much on his God-given
physique and not on the endless, thankless hours needed to truly succeed in
boxing.

   The two combatants knock their gloves together to signal the start of
the match and then begin to circle one another.  The black man dances about
the ring with an arrogant swagger while my man is more wary, focusing all
his attention on assessing his opponent's strengths and weaknesses.  The
black man throws a series of lightning-quick jabs, followed by a sweeping
uppercut, but my boxer easily dodges them, leaving the other man's fist to
poke at empty air.  My champion is more wary, his head down and his fists
at the ready, waiting for a moment of weakness in his rival's guard.  He
stalks with catlike grace and he is beautiful to behold, deadly to oppose.

   With his experience and dedication, my sparring stud plans his method of
attack.  His adversary clearly has the better of him in speed, throwing his
meaty fists with an astonishing rapidity for such a large man, and he is
equally light on his feet, bobbing and weaving as if moving to the heavy
urban rhythms of his music.  But he is also showy, impatient, and while he
does show a lot of punches, they often are a poor selection.  Perhaps it is
a calculated move because of his clear disadvantage in stamina, hoping for
the glamorous roundhouse to bring about a swift end.  But my guy will not
be tempted to play that game, moving like a great panther circling it's
prey, ignoring the bravado, searching for the a fatal flaw in his
competitor's defense.

   His break comes when the black man feints with his left then drives with
a powerful straight strike that not only misses badly but leaves his upper
body unprotected.  My bruiser lands a viciously quick right to the other's
chest with a dull thud, the sickening impact sending his adversary reeling
back in several unsure steps.  The black man pauses for a moment, shaking
his head to bring focus back to his bleary eyes.  He is angry and he rushes
the man I am lusting for like a bull, leaving him vulnerable for a solid
left cross that sent a spray of crimson droplets spewing from a split lip.
Ignoring the wound, the two came together, their flailing fists landing
only glancing blows one another's torso and abdomen before the trainer
pulls the entwined pair apart with a sharp curse.  I watch them in that
momentary embrace, both breathing hard, and think about holding him that
way...

   They fight for several more rounds, the black man's agility allowing him
a few solid punches that must bruise my man's ribs while it was the
opponent's sheer bulk and proud tenacity that allowed him to endure the
relentless attack that made his face puffy and opened a jagged cut over his
left eye.  They are both clearly exhausted, the sweat pouring off their
battered bodies, every punch that connects sending a shower of wetness
across the ring.  My dream lover's trunks are drenched in perspiration,
draped about his thick, muscular thighs, clinging to the curves and planes
of his delectably firm buns.  I want to pull those soaked shorts off his
bulky legs and lick his naked male flesh, to taste the mixture of salty
sweat and sweet wetness.

   The battle ends with all the savagery that has marked its length.  The
bulkier man, blood spilling into his eye, has been growing steadily weaker,
far less aggressive than he had been at first.  It turns out to be a
desperate ploy because as my man reaches in for a nice jab, his wily
challenger suddenly raises for a final combination.  But he swiftly becomes
a victim of my fighter's instincts which cause him to suddenly draw back,
allowing the uppercut to whistle by cleanly before landing a devastating
strike to the black man's face.  He goes down hard, a small trickle of
blood dribbling out of the gaping cut on the bridge of his broad nose.  My
victorious boxer raises his hands triumphantly as he is lead back to his
corner.  Grinning his success, he holds his arms out for the beaming
trainer to unlace his gloves while the medical people announce that he is
relatively none the worse for wear and his only wounds will be washed away
by a nice hot shower.

   I am waiting inside the darkened locker room, watching him thread his
way through the other crowding around the ring in excited expectation for
the main event between a rival gym's welterweight and our own.  My interest
is solely in the young stud approaching me.  The fight has left him
battered and bruised, his cheeks and lips puffy from the blows he took, but
he glows with the excitement of victory.  My heart beats faster and faster
inside my chest as he nears.  Several times I have doubts and think of
running away, but my desire for him is too strong and I won't go back. 
When he looks at me, dressed only in a towel as if I'm about to take a
shower, and doesn't look away, I begin to tremble.

   I hold my breath, waiting to see what he will do but before I can think
it has begun, just as it does in my dreams.  With a mysterious look on his
face, he reaches out to put his fingers in mine.  His skin is warm, as
though he has just come out of the sun.  Without a word, his hands come up
until he is rubbing my shoulders, massaging out an imaginary knot.  I give
him a look like I am on to him and he returns it with the most intensely
lustful stare, telling me that I am his, a prize for winning the fight. 
Suddenly he reaches in close and scrapes his teeth across my earlobe.  My
breath hisses through my teeth in pure pleasure.  His hand, rough from
still being taped, reaches around me, pulling me into his half-naked
embrace.  As I slip into his strong arms, I feel his flesh come together
with mine, the muscles of his torso rasping along my own bare skin.  I am
pinned to him, the potent weight of his body heavy and delicious.  I want
him to never let go.

   Caught up in our passionate cinch, he brushes my lips with his own.  We
kiss once, light, tentative, then a bit harder, a little deeper.  His
tongue presses insistently against my teeth and I open my mouth to allow
it's snaking length to invade me.  Locked in a deep soul kiss, I sink
deeper into the protective hug of this hot stud I've been lusting after for
so long.  His hands reach up to cradle the back of my head, stroking my
hair as our kisses last for endless moments.  Our chests rub together,
flesh pressing against naked, sweaty flesh.  I am achingly aware of his
penis pressing into mine, throbbing side by side, separated only by the
thin, shining fabric of his shorts and the soft terry cloth towel barely
clinging to my hips.  Unable to resist touching his gloriously sexy body
for another moment longer, I place my hands on his broad, strong back and
feel the mingled heat and sweat of his bare skin.  My exploring fingers run
over the limber muscles of his shoulders, sliding down the long slope of
his back.  Gliding under the sleek fabric of his trunks, my hands are
filled with the firm globes of his luscious buns.  Squeezing my boxer's
sexy ass, I began to run my tongue along the rough stubble that dusts his
throat.  When he draws my head up for another deliciously rough kiss, I
become dizzy with primal lust.  I want to melt into him, to be consumed by
him here, in the place that is filled with his presence, that is so much a
part of him.

   With firm purpose, his hands glide down to the loose knot of my towel
and strip it away from me, leaving me naked in his arms.  My fully erect
penis juts out, the throbbing hard-on poking into the wet silk of his
boxing shorts.  Seemingly instinctively, he grinds his hips against mine,
allowing me to feel him stirring towards an erection.  It makes me feel
bold, seeing that I can have such an effect on this beautiful man.  Drawing
a shuddery breath, my fingers visibly trembling, I trace his thick bulge.
The reward for being so forward was now pulsing in my cupped hand.  A
turbulent rush surges through me as he sways his hips, pushing himself into
my touch.

   When his hands go to my shoulders and urge me down, I reluctantly break
our tongue-twisting kiss and sink slowly downwards.  I trail my caressing
lips over his muscular torso, tasting the faint sheen of sweat covering his
buffed body, before kneeling before him.  When I draw the trunks down off
his swollen loins, firm buns and muscular thighs, he is left naked for a
jock strap, his heavy organ distending the pouch.  Reaching around to feel
the full mounds of his ass, I fondle the warm ripe buns with adoring
fingers.  Bending my face into his crotch, I run my mouth over the length
of his barely concealed tool, my eyes never leaving his face.  I am once
again astonished by how staggeringly handsome he is.  His dark hair hangs
down his forehead in a disheveled state, a sharp contrast to the raw beauty
of his face, made all the more alluring by the luminous lust radiating from
his darken eyes.

   I can't wait another second so I slip my fingers under the straps that
cross his tight buttocks and slide the garment off, freeing his engorged
penis.  As my fighter slips out of his jock, kicking it aside, I stare at
his beefy manhood with naked delight, a prime cut of man-meat of truly
inspiring proportions.  His is the cock of wet dreams, straight and thick
as a redwood sapling, the hefty shaft corded with veins and topped by a
plump mauve head, moist with pearlescent pre-come.  His wrinkled sac and
its twin eggs hang down behind his mighty prick like a bag of gold hefted
by an unseen hand.  My heart begins to hammer in my chest as I stare in awe
at his dauntingly thick organ springing right at my uptilted face.  All the
times I've fantasized about having sex with him, never daring to believe,
but now my every dream is about to come true.

   Without a single conscious thought, I hunch down and smooth my lips up
and down his warm length, applying pressure and following it with my
soothing tongue.  He draws in a tremulous breath, letting it out slowly as
I continue my intimate exploration of his turgid cock.  His naked flesh is
silken, the glossy skin pulled taut over his mushroomy knob.  After
swirling just the tip of my tongue around the spongy ridge at the peak, I
run it down the impressive length of the trunk.  I love the way the
landscape of his tool changes as I traverse it, the softness of the brim
narrowing into the dense shaft, the prominent veins pulsing.  The sensuous
journey ends when my mouth encounters the rough, wiry curls sprouting up at
the base.  My aroused brawler moans deeply as I make my way back up his
engorged manhood, his thighs tensing when I make contact with the sticky
crown.  The ripe plum radiates heat under my loving teases as I take it
between my lips and suck softly at the slick beads of sweet juice drizzling
from the gaping slit.  My sexy slugger's fingertips trace my jawline as I
milk his bulbous glans.  He isn't one of those grab `em by the ears types
of guys who do their best to choke you.  Not at all.  He seems to
appreciate the slow, subtle worship I'm performing on his scrumptious cock.
His selflessness excites me almost as much as the delicious flavor of his
juicy organ.  Filled with a wanton desire, I grasp the base of his penis,
take a deep breath then lean forward to slide him into my open mouth.

   Despite my resolve to take it nice and easy, I am so starved for him I
take his whole length in one smooth movement until his thick, dark bush is
tickling my nose.  He is so big that I have to force myself to relax so I
won't gag.  Unable to move for a moment, I savor the potent sensations I am
feeling.  His stout shaft is stretching my lips almost unbearably and I am
drowning in his richly masculine taste and scent.  Testing his pleasure
limits, I reach around to stroke the strip of flesh beneath his scrotum. 
If the discovery that he'd shorn his deep furrow free of hair isn't proof
of his enjoyment of ass-play, then his soft sigh is.  After a few moments
of rimming his adorably nude nether hole, I slip the finger all the way in
to the velvety warmth of his almost-eagerly accepting anus.



   My mouth has grown accustomed to his shocking size so I start to feed on
his luscious penis, wolfing my way up and down, swallowing him, then giving
him back.  My lips slide along his delectable sex, savoring every inch of
his beefy stalk, drinking the pre-come oozing from the tiny cleft as if it
was water to cool my parched throat.  But nothing quenches my need for this
man.  I want more and more of him and feel as if I can suck his cock
forever.  My lusty fellatio seems to shred my fighter's restraints because
he begins to pump my willing mouth in long, fierce strokes, his balls
banging against my chin as he delivers blow after blow.  I can tell my
lover is teetering on the brink, judging by the way his thighs were flexing
and tensing and his fingers clutch in my hair, moving my head more quickly
along his quivering rod.  I desperately want him to feel him roaring into
my throat, to taste his come pouring into me.

   To my disappointment, he pulls out and uses his hand to bring himself
off.  Still, I must admit it is incredibly erotic to see his bloated organ,
thick bluish veins popping out everywhere, glistening with my saliva. 
After only a few jerks from his big paw, his glans swelling to obscene
proportions as he comes in a gush.  My sexy boxer's rectum clenches tightly
about my pumping fingers and his body twitches wildly in the exquisite
agony of orgasm as the geyser of creamy white splashes onto my face,
splattering my mouth with a sticky smear of heat.  He bites his lip and
squeezes his flushed face into a funny expression as I lock my lips just
behind the rim of the angry purple head for the finale, tickling his nerve
trigger with my whirling tongue.  I am rewarded with three more squirts of
steamy man-milk and I drink down every spicy droplet.

   He is still trembling from the blissful intensity of his tumultuous
climax as I rise back up, licking the rippling muscles of his torso. 
Pulling my lips off his small dark nipple, he kisses me, his hand reaching
down to grasp my semi-erect penis.  It feels so good to have his big rough
fingers curling about my surging erection.  I begin to breathe heavily as
he begins kissing my naked body, slowly working his way down my chest and
stomach until he is on his knees before me.  He nuzzles into my scrotum
enthusiastically, continuing his dizzyingly erotic tease by twirling his
tongue about the length of my straining shaft.  When he begins to lap at my
bulging glans, using tantalizingly light strokes, I throw my head back in
pure sexual joy.  The reverberating throb in my swollen manhood echoed in
cloyingly sweet pulses throughout me.

   When his lips close over the blunt tip, devouring the mauve glans in a
sultry wetness, I almost swoon.  He holds a tropical rainforest between his
lips, his mouth is so warm and moist as he begins to suckle.  He is intent
on consuming me, swathing my submerged organ with his sinuous tongue.  When
he begins to devour more of my turgid cock, my fingers run instinctively
through his hair as I slip into his open throat like a ship sinking into
the sea.  His lips encircled about my thick beef, his nose tangled in my
black curls, he doesn't move, holding me in suspended ecstasy.  My hips
buck when he suddenly pumps himself up with an exquisite siphoning suck
then plummets back down.  I can feel in crisp detail every tiny sensation
he is lavishing on me with fondling lips and whirling tongue.  I arch my
back, rising up to meet the downward strokes on my pole that draw out
rivers of liquid pleasure from my deep in my loins, bringing me to the edge
of orgasm and back again until I am writhing in agonizing need.

   While he continues his breath-taking fellatio, the young stud brings a
saliva-lubricated finger between my cheeks to stroke my rear hole.  He
begins to draw little circles around the wrinkled opening.  He takes things
slowly, massaging the clenched muscle until it begins to relax under his
soothing touch.  When I am sufficiently loosened, he slides a finger into
my tight anus until I can feel his knuckle against my buttock.  He
introduces a seductive synchronicity between his bobbing mouth on my
rampant prick and his finger delving into my tender rectum.  It only takes
a few moments before I'm ready for his middle to join the index wriggling
about inside me.

   When he has the ring finger join the other two, it feels like a
decent-sized cock is pumping my ass even as he continues to suck my aching
cock with a lusty fury.  Every nerve burns and I hump my writhing hips
against the hunk's face in complete abandon.  The deliciously sweet torture
is just too much for me to bear any longer.  His free hand squeezes my
balls as they contract, pumping bubbling semen through my spasming shaft in
a roaring release.  The surging orgasm erupts in a resplendent starburst,
raining down showers of iridescent bliss, a drenching deluge mirrored in my
ejaculation, which my lover gulps down with greedy gusto.

   I teeter on shaky legs, sweaty and exhausted while my sexy brawler's
hands caress my heaving chest.  He suggests we should clean up and I
obediently follow him to the showers.  Even doing something so mundane, he
is so hot!  Unlike some attractive men I've known, being naked makes him
all the more gorgeous, looking as good as any beefcake photo.  He is so
hung his limp but still beautiful penis actually sways as he turns on the
hot water.  For a man capable of seemingly-limitless violence, he is
remarkably tender and affectionate as we wash one another and I allow
myself to indulge in the fantasy of being his boyfriend, the romantic idea
of leisurely blowjobs and nightlong lovemaking really turning me on. 
Before long, our soapy hands are reaching for one another's cock and my
heart skips a beat as I realize my bruiser is going to need a round in my
ring before he is satisfied.

   Whispering that we probably should find ourselves a little privacy, my
fighter leads me to one of the empty training rooms nearby.  After locking
the door to be sure we won't be disturbed, he puts an arm around my waist
and leads me to a spartan, padded table.  His dick is somewhat soft, but
mine is rigid, a blatant erection shafting straight up.  Taking me by the
girth, he guides me to the table and lays on top of me missionary style. 
My beautiful boxer starts to kiss me roughly, grinding himself along my
lower belly.  Entwining my legs with his, I push hard against him, my
groping hands clutching at his pumping ass muscles.  As we move in our
primitive mating rituals, two wild animals lost in the lust of the rut, all
I can think about is this gorgeous body pressed tightly against my own.  My
fingers are twisted into his unruly mane while we make out, holding him
tightly as his tongue, insistent, brash, ravishes my mouth.

   I am damn near breathless when we break apart but I almost faint when I
see my horny pugilist's penis is now a solid length of meaty flesh, full,
thick and hard, spearing out from his loins.  Suddenly he crawls up to
straddle my upper chest with his knees, his raging hard-on popping out
right in front of my face.  More than willing to accommodate him, I grasp
his dauntingly sized erection and slide my lips over the fleshy dome.  I
love the taste of his beefy cock in my mouth.  God, he is so silky smooth
and deliciously thick that I can't resist.  Moving my hands to clutch his
firm buns, I begin to bob back and forth, taking the juicy trunk down into
my throat, loving every moment of it.

   He withdraws sharply, his engorged prick dripping with my saliva.  I
don't have to be asked, simply spread my legs, offering myself up to him. I
want so badly to be taken by him, invaded by him, fucked by him, to feel
his hot cock pounding into me.  He wants it too, crawling up between my
flared thighs, tilting my hips upwards.  I lay back, allowing him to mount
me fully, slipping my legs over his sturdy shoulders and watching him put
his hands flat on the floor.  Trembling with obvious desire, I guide his
dick, solid as stone, letting go only when I felt the insistent pressure of
his spongy glans against my exposed pucker.  Using only his hips, he begins
to slowly push against my resistant muscle.  I groan as it subtly gives way
and then the flaring ridge slips by and into my delicate insides.

   My boxer is so big he is almost too much for my behind to take!  I let
out a muffled whimper, consumed by the paradoxical feeling of a dull pain
from being too filled and the urgent wanting of his cock all the way up my
ass.  I take a deep breath against the profound sensations as he breaches
me with a gradual but inexorable downstroke.  The thickness of his tool
stretches me cruelly, my hips jerking forward against the table in a
desperate attempt to escape his penetration while the darkest reaches of my
insatiable lust craves a complete invasion.  By the time he has driven
himself in totally, wiry curls scratching the curve of my skewered rump, I
want to sob from the overwhelming rawness of harrowing sensation.  It is
right then the antilogy of anal sex kicks in, that feeling of my body
utterly violated and yet I am in roseate heaven, nearly swooning with
depraved bliss from having my tender ass plundered, my chute stretched to
new limits.

   His penis buried deep in my bottom, my sexy slugger puts his elbows to
the floor, presses his buffed body against mine and begins a gentle
stroking motion, rising and falling with my hips.  We move in almost slow
motion at first, the young stud pulling out slowly, then surging back in,
his thick cock beginning to move more easily.  I close my eyes, focusing
all my senses on the subtle undertones of our lovemaking.  The sounds alone
are highly erotic - the slap of flesh on heated flesh, his quiet grunts of
mounting pleasure and his musky masculine aroma accents the auditory image.
Still, everything pales to the deliciously real feel of his thick rod
plunging into my warm depths.  Every nerve seems centered on the point
where that beefy organ burrows into me, stimulating my tender inner
membranes.  I love it, am seduced by its sweet temptation to writhe about
shamelessly, to freely offer up my delicate anus to be ravished by his
steely prick and beg for more.

   Within a matter of mere minutes, his whole body is raising off mine,
just his hands and toes holding him up over me, then crashing down,
slamming his meaty manhood into my open hole.  The harder he pumps me, the
stronger the feelings of delirious lust and desire flow through me. 
Craving ever more, I clamp my hands on the ass of this man who is pumping
me silly.  Every time he humps into me, his luscious buns knot up tight,
popping deep dimples into the firm muscles.  Smiling at my blatant arousal,
he lowers his gorgeous face to mine so our mouths can meet.  Our lips meld
as we kiss each other hungrily, completing circuits all over me, setting
off flaring sparks surging through my mind.  We melt into one, a carnal
union turning into a nearly spiritual one, and I know then that we will
share each other's bliss.

   With my silent permission, his thrusting speeds up, no longer trying to
hold off the tumultuous force within that is clamoring for release.  Rising
up and grabbing my ankles to give himself leverage as well as to watch his
cock disappear inside my welcoming ass, he starts to fuck me with quick and
savage strokes, mirroring the relentless onslaught he used to defeat his
opponent in the ring.  Looking down upon me from between my feet, he sees
that I will do anything for him and that is what seems to put him over the
edge.  His entire body arches for an endless moment, the shimmering sheen
of sweat making every muscle and tendon of his chiseled body stand out in
incredible relief, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson.  Then he
lets out a loud roar as he plummets back down upon me, driving himself in
to the hilt.  An orgasmic spasm rips through him as he spends violently
within me, great shudders of raw ecstasy racking his body as he pours
torrents of white-hot semen into my quivering depths.

   When I feel the first blush of his bubbling liquid heat rushing up to
splatter on my inner walls, I let go.  A turbulent, dizzying wave of
euphoria washes over me, rippling bliss rushing through my veins.  My
cloven rectum starts fluttering along the engulfed length of his penis and
then my whole body knots up as my very soul ruptures under the barrage of
undistilled sensations, sending out its own cascade of blinding rapture. 
As he fills me with his own sweet streams, I come in a great shivering
spurt of creamy white that showers our undulating torsos in a warm, wet
rain of my juice.  My boxer and I share in one another's ineffable joy,
shuddering in each other's protective embrace, sheltered from the world
beyond.  We lay in one another's arms for a breathless eternity, heavy
panting diminishing to soft, rhythmic breathing.  I am bathed in a haze as
delightfully numbing as any narcotic, feeling the lulling warmth of his
naked body on top of mine, the subtle play of muscle in his chest and
thighs, the steady beat of his heart, sounding out the ageless rhythm of
love and desire, the love and desire I feel for my boxer.