Third Date Rule Ch. 01

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I pulled my small SUV into the short driveway before a light, pristine suburban townhouse and peered through my windshield at the address. Double-checking my phone, I confirmed what its GPS had just cheerfully informed me – I had arrived. Stepping out of the car, I nervously wiped my clammy hands on my dark jeans and walked up to the white front door, squaring my shoulders and affecting as friendly an expression as I could. Wait, too much! Keep it butch.

I couldn’t find the doorbell, so I knocked loudly. Crap, the doorbell was right in front of me. Oh, well. Daron’s voice called loudly from within. “Tom! Come in, it’s open!”

Stepping in, I was met with a clean and modern, albeit spartan, interior. I peered past the bright living room through a small open kitchen toward the hall where I assumed Daron must be.

“Man, I’m so sorry,” Daron said loudly from past the back hall. He stepped partly out, and I was surprised to see his bare shoulder and arm. His brown skin had a slight sheen of sweat, and a slick compression shirt was draped over his shoulder. I saw one leg of his gray compression tights from around the corner. Damn, he was cut. What appeared to be a post-workout pump made his already impressive physique seem even more daunting. I struggled in vain to constrain my obvious ogling. “I got held up at work, then I tried to get a workout in. Of course, then my mom calls right before I finish,” he groused.

I repressed a smile. Daron, despite all his lean, intimidating buffness, had the slightly high, nasal voice of a consummate nerd whenever he emoted. Otherwise, he strove to speak in the low, clipped register common in the military. “Hey, no worries!” I responded. “I’m in no rush. But you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to show off your muscles,” I chuckled.

Daron barked his nerdy laugh, “You like?” He flexed his one visible arm exaggeratedly, then disappeared back around the corner. I laughed in what I hoped was a lighthearted way. I *did* like. His arm, from his closely trimmed underarm to his rounded bicep provoked a heady mix of masculine envy and arousal. He yelled from out of view “I was gonna text you, but I didn’t think you’d be so punctual! You sure you never served? Anyway, I figured you could pick out a restaurant since we never settled on one.”

“Yeah, no problem! You in the mood for anything specific?”

“Nah, anything’s fine! As long as they serve real food! I’m bulking!” Daron called back.

“Jeez, dude. You’re already yoked!” Did I just say “yoked?” Ugh.

“Always a work in progress!” I heard a shower start. “I’m just gonna jump in the shower real quick! Don’t worry, if there’s one thing I learned in the Navy, it’s how to get ready quick!”

“No rush! I’ll start googling ‘real food!'” I sat on the edge of the firm gray couch and pulled my phone out. I checked restaurants nearby just for show; I had already come equipped with three options. I resolved to use my downtime to try to calm down. I hadn’t expected to be met by a sweaty, half-naked action hero; Daron made me nervous enough, already.

*****

We’d met online a few weeks prior. No, not on *that* app, but a comparatively wholesome dating one. Daron’s pictures were definitely a mixed bag: some new, some old and grainy, one in his former service uniform. I could tell that he had a friendly face, looked to be in decent shape, and had a wide, brilliant smile. After a considered right swipe, I was pleasantly surprised to match with him immediately. He had messaged me right away, and our conversation revealed what seemed to be a pleasant and engaging personality, a semi-recent breakup, and a new job with an engineering firm that brought him to the area after he was discharged from the Navy and earned the balance of his degree. I impressed him, too, I think. I have an interesting job in the legal field, and I think I’m a great texter. I probably write better than I speak, to be honest. Nerves don’t show through a polatlı escort qwerty filter, after all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I aced the pre-date interview. “So, you’re into black guys I guess,” he had texted.

“Not specifically,” I had replied. “I’m into attractive guys. Don’t really have a type; you just happen to be super handsome, lol.” Click, that worked.

“Wow, thanks! Not gonna lie, I’m kinda over white guys saying shit about BBC [laugh emoji].”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I’m not here to fetishize you. Just thought you were hot. Still evaluating if you’re an axe-murderer, though. So far, so good!”

“Haha I can assure you I am not. I prefer swords.”

“That’s okay, at least it’ll be quick.”

“Lmao. Dude, you’re funny! Very intrigued by you.” Nailed it. After texting for a few days, we resolved to meet up at a local burger joint. Walking in on time, I had found him already at a table. He stood up, and I was shocked. His pictures hadn’t done him any justice. He was taller than I’d assumed, just an inch or so shorter than my 6’1″. But his rod-straight posture and wide shoulders somehow made him seem taller than me. He was also much more muscular. Not in a ‘roided, body-builder way, but he had the broad, functional muscle of a dedicated jock. His shoulders and pecs practically burst through his fitted video game logo tee-shirt. Our first date turned out better than I expected. The conversation flowed, and I loved learning his geeky expressive side, which I easily matched. That said, it had ended with a disappointingly perfunctory hug. Although he had complimented my hair several times (softly side-parted), I assumed that my comparatively skinny frame and personality had simply failed to impress.

But the next day, he carried on texting, and then asked me out again! I tried not to get my hopes up. He proposed that I meet him at his place the next Friday, and we’d try out a new restaurant.

*****

So now I found myself sitting on a couch fidgeting, while a super-jock-nerd was naked in the shower feet away.

The squeak of the shower shutting off jerked me out of my reverie. I heard some movement, then Daron’s call: “So, what’s for dinner?”

“What do you think about Luiz’s Bistro or New Korean BBQ?” I yelled back.

“Korean!”

“Sounds good!”

“You been there before?”

“No, but it looks good online!”

“Okay. Hey, can you help me out?” Daron walked out and my heart almost stopped. His deep brown musculature was mostly dry, but beads of water still clung here and there. His narrow hips and powerful thighs were enrobed in a crisp, white towel that hung just to his knees. Apparent above the high-wrapped towel, the deep V of his obliques and Adonis belt pointed decisively toward his groin. Wrenching my gaze upward from there and dragging it up his smooth six-pack and the curve of his pecs to focus dumbly on his face took an almost painful act of will.

“Huh?” I murmured dumbly.

Daron chuckled and I flushed, obviously caught gawking. He held up a couple of shirts, one a tee, the other a short-sleeved plaid button-down. “Which shirt for this place?”

“Um. I don’t really know. I think either would probably be fine.”

“I don’t want to look like a dumbass. Do you still have it up on your phone?”

“Uh, yeah.” I quickly pulled up the restaurant website.

“Let’s see.” He threw the shirts over the back of a chair and walked over, then perched, knees apart, on the rounded arm of the couch just left of me and leaned over my shoulder.

God. I could feel the heat of his shower radiating off of his skin, and smell the sporty spice of his body wash. Was he wearing cologne? I felt my face burning; I was a little dizzy. I held my phone up lamely. “See?”

Daron reached out and grabbed my wrist in his left hand. His grip was strong and hot against my cool skin, and his hand easily fit around my narrow limb. “I can’t see.” He pulled my hand pursaklar escort closer. His right arm hooked around and rested heavily on my far shoulder. “Hmmm. The collar?”

“Yeah, I would probably go with that,” I agreed. I felt frozen.

“You’re so cold!” He dropped my wrist abruptly. My hand fell to his toweled thigh.

“You know, cold hands, warm heart!” I joked.

“I’m always a furnace, so looks like we’re complementary. Oh, and one thing. Last week, I forgot to do this.” His left hand moved to my jaw, and gently turned my head and tipped it up toward him. My senses were suddenly overwhelmed with his touch,warmth, scent, and the sight of his face stooping toward me. His lips (so soft!) grazed mine, then pressed in. Reflexively closing my eyes, I parted my lips slightly and kissed back. One…two… three. Then he pulled away. “Nice lips,” he murmured, brushing mine with his thumb.

I belatedly unscrewed my eyes. “Well, I’m glad you remembered today. What were we doing?” I joked.

“Well, I was about to tell you that you need to move your hand before we have to stay in.”

I looked down. My hand was still on his upper thigh, grasping his muscle in a death grip. My phone had slid unnoticed down onto the couch. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

“No, it’s all good, *somebody* obviously liked it,” he grinned, gesturing with his chin toward his lap. I looked and saw his towel jump slightly.

It couldn’t be. Was that his dick? If he had a semi under there it shouldn’t be… it was halfway to his knee! “Oh. My. God.”

Daron actually giggled. “Yeah, sorry. Now I have to tuck this thing into my jeans.” He stood up and my hand fell away. The unfortunate side effect for my dignity was that this brought his slightly tenting towel right in front of my face. Dumbfounded, I couldn’t stop staring.

“Is – is everything about you… uh, like… ugh.” I sputtered.

“Ha! It’s not *that* crazy,” Daron protested. “It’s… I don’t know, like seven and a half?”

“Yeah, right!” I finally looked up at his face, suddenly realizing that I had unconsciously leaned forward. “I feel like I haven’t gone through puberty yet, next to you with all your…” I gestured vaguely at all of him.

Daron threw his head back and barked a laugh, then quieted. “I like the way you look.” He softly brushed my hair back, then both hands returned to the knot at his waist. Speaking softly, almost shyly, his eyes narrowed. “Want a sneak peak?”

I could only nod. Sitting back on the armrest, he slowly unrolled the towel at his waist, and pulled it open.

He was beautiful. Princely. His pubic hair was trimmed almost to the skin; barely stubble like his scalp. This only served to highlight the long, heavy phallus that stretched between his muscular thighs. It bounced slightly, only mildly aroused, buoyed by the bulge of the full, hairless balls beneath it. A wave of Daron’s body wash and the beginnings of what must have been his natural scent broke over me. He ran his thumb down his length, where the pinkish glans was just beginning to peek wetly past his foreskin.

I was openly gawking, mouth open. Daron’s voice dropped in register, “Well… whaddya think?” While a question, it was obviously rhetorical. And while softly phrased, he sounded supremely, smugly confident. He was quite literally cocky, well aware that his sculptural muscles perfectly framed a masculine masterpiece.

“Go ahead. You can touch it,” he offered.

Please. My hand was shaking as it crept toward him of its own accord. I touched, following the velvet track he had laid with his thumb. He hissed. I had forgotten how cold my hands were. “Sorry!”

“No it’s okay.” Reassured, I wrapped my hand around his girth and slowly stroked toward his body. His skin was impossibly smooth. The pink head blossomed from its shadowy cowl as i pulled. I could feel his heartbeat and was dimly aware that the penis in my hand was growing heavier and broader sincan escort in my grip as it filled.

“Mmmm,” he hummed. I felt his hand on the back of my neck. Whether that was an invitation or not, my body was on autopilot. I leaned forward, and lifting his semi-turgid member to my mouth, reverently kissed the tip.

“Tom!” He sounded surprised, but the hand on my neck then tightened, and then pulled me in. He turned his body toward me, his strong thighs parting widely in invitation. I couldn’t control myself; my kiss turned French and my tongue danced along his tip. I licked around his corona, parted my lips, and took his head into my mouth. Sucking in, I could feel him growing at a rapid rate, pulsing larger. His already prodigious size was lengthening in my mouth, as if aiming for my throat, while his increasing girth was forcing my hand and lips apart. I welcomed it, lurching forward, hoping to swallow him before he grew too large to accommodate.

“Aww yeah, Tom. That’s it, man,” Daron cooed. I looked up and he was smiling broadly. “I wasn’t expecting to give this to you tonight!”

Damn his smile was beautiful. I went harder, jacking him and bobbing. Inside my mouth, my tongue was working furiously but was being quickly displaced by the thickening rod now prodding my throat. My other hand cupped his balls and tugged gently.

“Wow, you’re a surprise! Yeah, get it.” Daron was leaning back slightly, and his hand moved from pulling me in to stroking my hair. He was relaxed, letting me work on his dick which was now arching slightly and diamond hard, slippery with my spit.

“Mmmm,” I moaned slightly as he encouraged me. I could taste his slick precum. I was painfully stiff in my own jeans, but totally focused on worshipping the manhood he generously offered. I loved that he was so hard for me; I felt privileged to stroke and lick his perfect shaft. But I still wanted more. I wanted him to take my mouth and own it; fuck it.

Absent that, I resolved to make him cum. Redoubling my efforts; twisting and lengthening my oral and manual strokes, rolling his balls – which were satisfyingly tightening, ready to load his shot. Daron’s voice tightened, too, rising in pitch and betraying that adorable inner nerd. “Tom, uhhh, keep…”

Without warning, his fist clenched in my hair and his other clamped on my chin while his hips canted forward. I instinctively attempted to pull away to taste him but was locked in place as his loaded cock fired down into my throat in thick staccato bursts. “Ugh, ugh, ugh, uhhhhh.” Firmly held, I took it. My only regret was his shot was so deep I couldn’t savor it.

Daron relaxed his grip and his pulsing dick slipped back. Pursing my lips, I was rewarded with the last flash of his warm cum over my tongue. I savored and swallowed as his retreating cock finally escaped my desperate mouth, springing to point, still defiantly hard but exhausted, at the lips that had just thoroughly milked it.

I looked up at Daron and we were both panting like we’d just run a marathon, then we both abruptly laughed. Daron still sounded exuberantly nerdy. “Man! You really enjoyed that dick! Damn, did you swallow? That’s… awesome!” He crowed, posing with his hands behind his head, grinning like a kid.

“Yeah, I don’t really know what came over me, haha.”

“I do!” he laughed, wagging his slowly flagging staff at me. Fuck, he still dwarfed me at half-mast.

“Very funny. I guess you just kept me waiting too long for dinner.”

He leaned forward and cupped my face. “Dinner can wait if you need me to…”

“No, let’s go! I’m legit starving. Remember, you picked the collared one.”

“Oh, alright!” He practically skipped back down the hall and quickly emerged. He somehow made even light denim look good, clinging to his muscled legs. He pulled on the chosen collared shirt. “Come on, I’ll drive.” He put his hand on my shoulder, and let it slide warmly to my lower back, gently pushing me out the door. We walked to the end of the drive where he unlocked a crest-white Mustang. We climbed in, and he grabbed my knee. “You be Goose, I’ll be Maverick. Just tell me where to turn.”

He gave it gas and we peeled off, heading toward dinner and our second date.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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