Griff the natural

by BRK   

On a relaxing cross-country road trip, Griff can’t help but make a couple of sexy new friends. That’s just the way his life goes.

Griff let out a contented sigh and bent a sun-toned, athletic arm to lie across the top of the window-lowered driver’s side door, the air in his handsome face and riffling joyfully through his long, wavy mahogany-brown hair above his classic Ray-Bans like a bit of highway mane-tousling was all the restless, kinetic windforce of the earth ever wanted.

Griff didn’t blame it. Masculine pleasures aside, there were few things better than driving down the open road on a mild, sunny spring day with the windows all lowered, the top down, and nothing between you and the big blue sky—shirts included. Griff was blessed with smooth, perfect skin that browned gently and easily, making moments like this under the sky and sun a real gift.

Actually, it was a gift, in a manner of speaking. His slow-tan, UV-resistant skin and highlight-friendly hair were hereditary traits he was genuinely grateful for, like his casual muscularity and his innate ability to draw good-looking, well-hung men to him with a bit of eye contact and a sweet, disarming smile.

All the men in his family were born hunk-magnets. His dad, a bright-eyed seducer with high cheekbones and the most distracting lips Griff had ever seen on a man, had the killer looks and perfect head-to-toe proportions for a top-drawer model, if it weren’t for the fact that Corwin Reese was an active man and to him modeling seemed to involve more time posing than doing. He wanted men caressing him, not cameras, so he went into Formula 1 racing—where he ended up being photographed plenty anyway, often hooking up with the spellbound camera guys and his equally handsome track rivals afterward.

Come to think of it, Griff’s ex-Navy grandfather had been a male model back in the early 1980s, before converting his garage-tinkering hobby into a career and starting his own electronics research firm. Family legend had it that his fuzzy-chested, sly-smiling full-page ‘70s-throwback catalog spreads and provocative, nearly-unclothed in-store displays had been single-handedly responsible for moving enough ultracomfortable no-fly fashion briefs (with plenty of room in the pouch, or so the ad copy promised) and snugly designed, butt-rounding jockey shorts in various colors to keep one of the old 1930s mail-order retail elephants alive a good five years past the point at which it should have folded.

Griff gripped the wheel loosely with thin-leather fingerless driving gloves as his tires effortlessly ate up the early morning asphalt that lay between Chicago and Cheyenne, patting the door of his ride with his similarly gloved free hand the way a rider might pat a horse that was both beautiful and strong enough to take you anywhere you wanted to go. He loved driving, he loved his black ‘99 Mustang GT droptop, the Killers mixing with the wind as the aftermarket Bluetooth speakers provided an unobtrusive soundtrack, and most of all he loved being free and shirtless in the open air. Even the sparse hairs on his aesthetically firm, sculpted chest were dancing around happily on the steady breeze, to all appearances enjoying the moment just as much as he was.

All he needed was a little male gaze and his day would be complete.

Not that he tended to be on his own long, as a rule. He’d just left some new friends behind back in Iowa not long ago, a trio of young, randy farm-strong hitchhikers he’d picked up on a back road after their ride had broken down on the way to the Jasper County spring artisans’ fair. His dick plumped as he remembered the fun they’d had in front of a dog bakery booth piled high with special cakey treats for doggies of the four-legged variety. Though it had been carefully wiped away after, Griff could still almost feel the special “icing” they’d sprayed all over his naturally chiseled abs, and when his little pack of pups had reluctantly joined their wives and families working the various booths he’d known it wouldn’t be long before he found new friends to play with.

That was just the way it went. Guys liked him, he liked guys, and everyone liked cumming. It was the most normal thing there was. If Griff had his way everyone would just relax and find each other and cum all the time. Until then he was happy to live his easygoing, natural, man-attracting life as a kind of unofficial brand ambassador for beautiful, uninhibited shared orgasming.

Even as he thought about sharing his serenity with a guy or two, he noticed a red Jeep Grand Cherokee catching up to him in the left lane on the otherwise mostly empty highway. Griff smiled. Though not a convertible like the Mustang, the SUV had its windows down, and the honey-brown, well-muscled forearm protruding from the passenger side looked very promising in Griff’s rear-view mirror. His heavy cock, still chubbed from the nostalgic memories of the morning’s county fair shenanigans, thickened a little further in his jeans, creeping sneakily along the crease of his hip without any pesky underwear to get in the way.

He let off the accelerator slightly, not enough to make it obvious he was slowing down, and after a minute or two the Jeep pulled up alongside him, keeping pace with the Mustang. Griff grinned over at the occupants of the Jeep, liking what he saw, and the guys in the Jeep grinned back, already pulled into Griff’s orbit by his perfect, inborn allure.

The passenger Griff had already seen a bit of, and the rest of him was just as hot as his forearm. The rippling of his loose sky-blue tee shirt as it moved back and forth in the wind effectively delineated the chiseled, thickly-muscled body it was rippling against. Round, cannonball delts and meaty biceps and triceps complemented ponderous, protruding pecs that were just as perfectly proportioned to his heavier frame as Griff’s were to his lankier free-climber, power-swimmer physique. The man’s light-brown skin seemed to shine in the morning light, and his face and smile were stunning even to Griff, who’d had exceptionally attractive men in his eyeline most of his waking life (and in his dreams) for as long as he could remember.

Beyond him was the driver, currently doing his best to stare at Griff and keep the Jeep on the road at the same time. He was ordinary only by comparison. A good-looking, trim boy-next-door type in a white tee shirt, he had loose sandy hair and a matching well-defined one-day beard, a tight body, and a winning smile that Griff guessed came so easily to him his friends and family might not recognize him without it.

There was something missing, though, as Griff looked him over, and it took him a few beats to realize what it was: this boy absolutely needed to be wearing your classic, OG straw cowboy hat—the raffia kind you reshaped as necessary and kept with you every moment of your life until it gave up the ghost and you got a new one. Griff hoped the driver did indeed own such a hat and it was safe in the back seat or stowed in the trunk, because if not something was definitely wrong with the world.

There was an exit ramp coming up, and Griff already knew from previous signage that there was a fruit smoothie-themed eatery off this particular turnoff. With a quick wink at the boys he pulled ahead and eased his Mustang into the exit lane. Slowing as he took the ramp, he watched his rear-view mirror closely. It only took a moment for the red Jeep to slide into place a short ways behind him, the occupants visibly on edge with anticipation even in the mirror. He even caught the boyish driver licking his lips, probably unaware he was even doing it. Guys were drawn to Griff, and this seemed to be one of those times they felt it strong enough to unintentionally wear it written all over them. Griff wondered if one or both of them was already mostly hard, their tumescent cocks simmering with need and anticipation just like Griff’s.

Griff smiled to himself as he slowed to stop at the red light, the Jeep close behind. He was going to have some fun with these two, before they got to have their fun with him.

He’d barely pocketed his gloves and started working the fancy self-serve smoothie machine in the chilly roadside eatery before he felt the warmth of very masculine presences close to either side of him, as though their thin magnetic aura were brushing Griff’s bare-chested, naturally buff physique. (There had been a sign in the door about shirts and service, but no one ever seemed to bring such things up with Griff.)

That they were standing so close was hardly unusual. Griff had heard about “personal space” but had never really experienced it, at least not when it came to hot guys. It was like the men he drew to him wanted Griff to sense them just from their bodies being a bare inch or two away, their attractive faces only to be seen in intimate close-up.

Griff settled the large cup with the “green energizer” fruit-and-veg base into the mixer receptacle and set the machine quietly chugging and churning, then turned to the beefier of the two men on his right. He was standing close and radiating arousal, but his expression was more subdued and a slight line had appeared between his brows as he stared hard at Griff, as though he were trying to figure out what exactly they’d stumbled across out here on the open plains, the majestic Rockies only now starting to make the horizon excitingly blue and jagged to the west. Griff wanted to take an index finger and gently smooth the little crease, like he’d seen a guy on an old k-drama do once.

Griff gave the guy an easy smile. “Hi, I’m Griff,” he said, letting just a scosche of disarming back-home drawl into his speech.

The thick-set bruiser’s eyes seemed to darken on hearing Griff’s voice, though this only made that line between his brows deepen a bit further. “Wayne,” he said, low and smooth, and Griff’s cock thickened substantially in his jeans.

He smiled a little more warmly. “Nice,” he said. Strangely, Wayne seemed slightly closer now, as if his body wanted to be against Griff’s so much it shifted its coordinates a few microns nearer on the universal atomic map. Griff nodded his smooth, square chin toward the refrigerated cabinet next to the smoothie machine. “What can I get you, Wayne?”

Wayne blinked and looked over at the carry-out smoothie maker as though noticing it for the first time. Griff smiled, letting him make his choice, and turned to Wayne’s boyish friend, who started talking even before Griff’s head was fully turned his way.

“I’m East,” the lightly-bearded boy said, his blue eyes shining as they met Griff’s. He was looking at Griff with a kind of naked awe, like he’d encountered something wondrous beyond imagining. He seemed to want to say something but was holding himself back, though his resistance didn’t last long. “Why do I want to touch you, Griff?” he blurted out finally. Before he’d gotten the words out, East’s warm hand was splayed across the muscles of Griff’s lower back, making East shiver slightly. When Griff’s smile widened at the touch, East grinned back at him.

“It’s perfectly natural,” Griff explained, turning a little so he could use the back of his hand to caress the very obvious tube of rigid flesh pushing out East’s jeans, the blue of which perfectly matched his eyes. Said eyes rounded comically at the touch. “Masculine pleasure is the most normal thing in the world.”

East’s face was close enough Griff could feel his breaths on his cheek. He was maybe an inch or two taller than Griff, an angle Griff very much appreciated. “I haven’t ever wanted to touch a guy before,” East confessed. “Or… be touched by a guy.” His pale cheeks reddened slightly at the words, but his hand was upping the ante, breaking its frozen stillness and moving around Griff’s lower back in small, slow circles. His teeth were white and perfect, just like the rest of him. Griff made a mental note to find him that hat if at all possible—it went even better with his aw-shucks personality than he’d guessed.

“You like cock, though, right?” Griff said patiently. “You like your cock, don’t you?”

East’s moving hand stuttered, just for a second, and his blush deepened. “Well, yeah, of course,” he admitted.

“Well,” Griff said, his smile sliding into a smirk as he turned his hand and firmly gripped East’s hard-on through the denim, “I like your cock, too.” East gasped, already panting, his eyes locked on Griff’s with a kind of wide, wanton amazement. Meanwhile, another hand had found his back, his time further up along the shoulder-blades and upper flanks. These caresses were stronger and more deliberate, and Griff knew Wayne had been unable to resist joining in now that the touching had started.

“So you just do this? Wherever you go?” East asked a little wildly, his circles on Griff’s back mimicking the rhythm of Griff’s slow up-and-down stroking of East’s long, rigid tool.

“There’s nothing more natural than a guy getting hard,” he said, moving on for a gentle, sensuous kiss. When he pulled back he met East’s stare and added as if he hadn’t interrupted himself, “…and nothing more natural than a guy cumming his brains out all over himself and his buddies.” His well-practiced hands undid East’s jeans in a few deft moves and found his cock, enticingly unencumbered by underwear of any kind. He wrapped his and around the shaft and held its length, savoring the feel of easily-accessible dick he’d had delightfully within reach since he’d gone out into the world as a man.

East’s breath seemed to stop for a millisecond. As the blissful moment stretched Griff felt Wayne’s hand on his back become a whole body—specifically his thick, ponderous pecs against his shoulder blades and his groin, rigid, blunt cock and all, against Griff’s round, hypnotic muscle-butt. Impressively, he immediately noticed that Wayne’s thick-built chest was pushing bare skin against Griff’s naturally flared upper back, like he’d recognized his role as part of this three-hunk sandwich, pulled off his shirt, and silently got to work. For someone seemingly nonplussed by the draw Griff exerted on men like them, Wayne sure knew how to slide in place and get with the program.

Wayne’s pecs were so thick there was still room for East to keep stroking Griff’s lower back, though Griff could tell from the feel of it that he was letting his knuckles slide along Wayne’s brick-like abs as well.

East couldn’t have been more turned on, his heated gaze flicking between Griff’s eyes and his kiss-buzzed mouth as Griff stroked his confidently in front of the smoothie machine, and when he spoke again he barely seemed aware of what he was saying. “You really do… this?” he asked in a whisper.

Griff slid his free hand under East’s blinding white tee, and East drew in a quick breath, Behind him, Wayne moved closer, reaching out to slide a hand along the side of East’s glute a little lower down and grab a bit of ass. “You remind me of this really cute guy I met in Laguardia airport,” he said. “Tall, friendly, sexy as fuck. Curious, too, like you,” he said, a little teasingly.

East was using all his energy to pay attention as hands pleasured him from all directions. “What happened?” he rasped.

Griff smiled. “He sucked my dick right there in the terminal waiting area,” he said, shoving his hand down abruptly and squeezing the base of East’s dick for two still beats before resuming his stroking. “Don’t worry,” he added, leaning in to nuzzle East’s soft, short beard with his cheek. “I returned the favor on the plane in first class. Twice.” He slid his tongue along East’s jawline. “I always seem to get upgraded.”

East gasped, his body stiffening. “Griff, I’m—I’m—what about you?” he panted.

Griff was touched by his politeness and made a playful nibble at East’s neck, under his ear. East moaned. “I’m close, too, we all are,” he said. “There’s room for two,” he added, “if—”

He’d barely got the thought before Wayne’s other hand was snaking around between Griff and East, undoing Griff’s pants with only a little less finesse than Griff. Wayne pulled out Griff’s long, thick, hot-as-fuck cock and immediately had it wrapped in his meaty hand. Only a second of hesitation elapsed before he felt its upper half and messy, leaking head wrapped in the more nimble hand of his other new friend.

“There you go,” Griff said. “Nothing more normal—”

“—than a hot guy needing to cum,” East finished.

“Or three hot guys,” Wayne admitted as he set his and East’s hands stroking Griff’s prodigious cock.

It seemed like no more speech was necessary, so Griff slid his face around to meet East’s lips and started kissing him thoroughly, their tongues almost a distraction to the ultimate male pleasure below. Wayne rutted rhythmically against Griff’s ass, his hard cock burning between Griff’s cheeks despite the intervening denim, the cadence of their stroked on East’s and Griff’s long cock matching Wayne’s steady, undulating thrusts.

Griff hadn’t been lying when he’d said they were all close. In mere moments a spectacular orgasm exploded through all three of them, sending hot, euphoric cum gushing onto two sets of abs, a gently-tanned v-shaped back, and a sexy white tee shirt. The three collapsed into each other in a messy hug, enjoying the floaty feel of serious afterglow so much they didn’t notice the local dilf trying to reach around them and use the smoothy machine without disturbing the blissed-out trio.

Later, the three stood outside, sipping their smoothies. Wayne and Groff had wiped each other off with East’s tee shirt, which he now had rolled longways and tossed over his shoulder, exposing a deliciously tight upper body that, while not in any way gym-developed, held its own against Wayne’s more epic frame. Best of all, East was now sporting a well-bent straw cowboy hat, as god and nature intended—it had been in the back seat of the Jeep all along, and East had retrieved it along with the small beat-up satchel he had draped over the same shoulder as his shirt.

“So, I’m headed to Cheyenne for a family thing,” he told the guys, enjoying the feel of sexual connection still coursing between them. “What about you guys?” He looked at Wayne.

“I got work,” Wayne said. “Regional sales. Might be transferring soon, though,” he added thoughtfully, eyeing Griff. “Heading west, maybe.”

Griff smiled and winked. “That sounds like a fun opportunity,” he said. He got out his phone and Wayne did the same, in sync with Griff as always. They traded numbers and pocketed their devices, and Griff turned to East.

East was trying to suppress a hopeful grin. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he said, dripping his head. “I was just hitching for fun. You know, see the world… the plains, the Rockies…” he added, tilting his head up to look at Griff from under the brim of his hat. When he saw Griff’s brows lift in surprise he explained, “Oh, Wayne was just letting me drive. I love driving and seems like he hates it.”

“I really do,” Wayne agreed.

Griff looked at East, a kind of erotic fondness welling up in him. “You are not going to be driving the Mustang,” he told him.

East beamed incandescently at him, knowing what this affirmation meant, and Griff couldn’t help grinning back. Even Wayne was smiling. “Understood!” East said, and the three quickly finished their smoothies, tossing the cups in a nearby garbage can and heading for their vehicles, Wayne for the Jeep and Griff and East for the Mustang.

Griff opened the passenger door for him and East was happy to climb in. As Griff walked around to the driver’s side, tossing a wave at the departing, soon-to-be-remet Wayne, he felt great contentment and a comfortable anticipation. East might like to drive, but he’d have other things to worry about in the days ahead.

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