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Kathy and I were on our honeymoon, strolling along the lakefront. There was an art festival on the lake and we were admiring the work on display. Kathy became involved in a lengthy discussion with one of the vendors, a jeweler, so I wandered away on my own.  I found myself in a Potter’s tent. Just outside the tent was a makeshift, wooden potter’s wheel used for demonstrations. His name was Gary, a well-built sandy-haired guy in a tight tank-top. He looked about thirty-five years old. His pottery was very nice but it was difficult to examine the work because my eye kept returning, for some reason, to his arms. I found them captivating. They were smooth and hairless with thick ropes of defined muscle and prominent blue veins. They certainly weren’t body-builder big, but they stood out dramatically, veined and corded. With the slightest move of his body some tight muscle group in the arms would jump to the surface and stand there glistening. The spectacle was so impressive that I found myself looking back and forth from arm to arm, as if watching a show. Oddly enough, there was a strange stirring of pleasure in my loins. Gary izmir rus escort bayan busted me watching him and I felt my face redden. He was explaining the process of his craft, how the pottery, after a second kiln-firing was much more durable. With a small bowl in the palm of his hand he said, “Feel how hard that is.” My hand seemed to have a mind of it’s own because it went beyond the bowl and came to rest upon the bunched-up biceps muscle in his arm. I have no idea why. My fingers pushed into it from several angles. It felt like a piece of lumber. The tips of my fingers stroked it for a while. When I realized that I had a raging erection, I pulled my hand back and hurried away without speaking. I caught up with Kathy near the jeweler’s tent where we continued our stroll, my dick throbbing in my shorts. The following morning Kathy wanted to sleep in, so I left the hotel and went for a walk along the lakefront. The artisans were busy preparing their booths for another day. I came upon the pottery booth where Gary was making some kind of vessel on the wheel. When he looked up Escort izmir otele gelen and saw me approaching, the wheel stopped spinning. He smashed a fist into the clay and began to work it with his hands. Once again he was stuffed into a tight tank-top. As he kneaded and pushed the clay, the muscles in his arms and shoulders leaped and slithered like thick snakes. I was hypnotized. My dick was hard. My gaze fell upon the dramatic movement in his shoulders, the veined cables jumping out of his arms. It was very confusing. I felt weak and helpless, as if my life was no longer in my own hands, that the slightest breeze might carry me away like a feather. Finally he scooped up the clay and held it casually with his arm at a 90 degree angle so that the biceps muscle peaked. My eyes drilled holes into it. It wasn’t especially large but it was tight to the point of bursting. It looked almost angry. My heart was pounding in tandem with my cock. When I looked at Gary’s face he was wearing a small, triumphant smile. He climbed down from the wheel and said something about going to Buca escort his van for more clay. He crossed the street and I followed. He did not turn around to see if I was behind him. He didn’t have to; he knew. I was his puppet and he was pulling my strings. I found it liberating to be entirely under the control of another, to have no free will whatsoever. There were no choices to make, no problems to solve. You merely put one foot in front of the other. Gary turned a corner and entered a field filled with trucks, RV’s and vans. He entered an old beat up RV, leaving the door open. I entered and closed the door. Boxes of pottery and bags of clay were strewn about the space. Gary stood in the center of the room, still crammed into that tank-top. But he was naked from the waist down. In my entire life I had seen a total of two erect penises, my own and my best friend Frank’s when we were sixteen years old. After Frank I discovered girls and never looked back. Now, at the age of 25, I was looking in disbelief at my third. It was enormous. I didn’t know they came that big. It was bobbing out in front of him like some kind of weapon, a club with a great red head and veins to rival those in his arms.  “Guess what,” he said. “It’s time for you to get busy.” I approached slowly. When I was close enough, he touched the top of my head with a finger and my knees hit the floor. At first he gave me explicit instructions and I followed them to the letter.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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