Hair presumptive

by BRK   

Rider’s new housemate, Isaiah, is extra-hairy, and it’s not there just to look at.

I think the first thing I really noticed about my new housemate, Isaiah, was his chest hair.

I’d only been renting out the spare bedroom in the old house for a year or so. It was a big old farm house, not that there had been a working farm in this part of the county in a while—according to the old timers, not since “the war.” (Pick one, the bust-up in question varies depending on who you ask. I never was much for history anyway, they’re all the same to me.) Used to be there were a buttload of us in the big family manse, but now it was just me and I figured I could use the cash and the company. Not that I was hurting. I did okay. I’d worked up through the ranks at the ball bearings factory until I was associate general manager. But furnaces and water heaters and roof repairs are expensive. When you own a house, you’re set until you’re not.

I’d seen Isaiah around town, I guess. Not really to speak to, but I knew him on sight. Probably I’d gone into the bakery where he worked and spotted him heading into the back for another round of kneading the dough and all. I’d thought he was hot, as far as brief rando encounters went, and my impression might have been unconsciously confirmed when he showed up at the open house after the last tenant left, but I was distracted that day and he was there in the middle of a run of people, most of whom were asking stupid questions about what meals I’d be cooking (folks, this isn’t a Victorian boarding house, make your own food) and how often they could use my gaming system (you’re joking, right?). He dropped an app and left, and I didn’t really see him, but the app impressed me and we talked on the phone and I offered him the space.

Then he showed up with his boxes. Jeans and ratty white tee shirt, warm spring day… yowza.

I’ve seen plenty of chest hair. I’m a dude and I did sports and I worked in a factory. I have what you might call a dusting myself, nothing spectacular but enough to be decorative. It wasn’t a thing for me, before. Not on my radar. Isaiah, though. The tee shirt he had on that day had a regular crew neck, not a vee, but the shirt itself was old and stretched out a bit and the neck of the shirt hung low and there was this line where it was tanned, smooth bare skin and then wham, the crop of chest hair just started, like a cleared field butting up against the straight line and across it, this thick, wriggling forest. No trees on one side, nothing but trees on the other. It was like that. You could see that line, you see the start of the chest hair crop. Even more crazy, the swath of chest hair you could see on account of the neck-hole hanging low? That hair, the fringe of it, almost seemed to be crawling over the hem of that loose, flaccid crew neck, like it was sentient and wanted to escape.

There was more hair, too. I was having trouble keeping my eyes off it all as we toted his repurposed bakery boxes (most were printed on the sides as having once contained EGGS or LIQUID SHORTENING or MUFFIN BOXES or whatever) and a few lamps and such into his new bedroom. It was the old master bedroom, as it happened, furnished apart from the mattress and box spring (his was coming that night). Which meant he was getting a deal seeing as how I was charging the going rate for an unfurnished guest room, thus explaining all the cheap-ass yahoos at the open house.

Anyway, there was the facial hair. The guy had a moderate to thick goatee, and the kind of heavy stubble that told you that for him, shaving was a lost cause. There was arm hair, too. He was muscled in that I’m-accidentally-fit-cuzza-what-I-do kinda way, which meant he filled out the beat-up tee shirt well enough. And the jeans. Fuck, his legs were long as shit. Arms also. You could see the definition on those long, bare forearms as he hefted boxes and hauled ’em around. Even with all the curly hair covering them sleeve-hem to wrist, and a little bit to the knuckles, you could see the cords. The hair wasn’t as thick on his arms as it was on his chest, but it was thick enough.

I chided myself for how silly I was being as we went back and forth, shifting his stuff into the house. My buddies woulda been ragging on me if they’d seen. Everybody knows, Rider. You’re supposed to scope the ass, not the forearms! Well, I was scoping the ass, don’t you worry, and a fine ass it was, but I was also scoping the arms. And that crop of chest hair that disappeared into that shirt that was so old I coulda ripped it off him, no problemo. I don’t mind saying I was a little chubbed by the end of us moving this specimen into my home. This hottie was going to be in my space. I know it’s weird, but with it being just the two of us, and the house being part of my identity since I was a zygote, it was almost like he had taken up residence inside me.

We got to be friends first, because that’s important. You can’t be friends with benefits without the friends bit, because then it would just be nothing with benefits, and nobody believes that would work. So we hung out. Watched movies, ate. Played on my game system, because that’s a friend thing, not a tenant thing. I cooked, he baked. Got groceries together, it was simpler. I fixed up the bike he got free from his nephew moving out of state; he helped me clear out the attic. Our orbits tightened. Then one morning it was his day off from the bakery and he handed me travel mug with a crooked smile as I was headed out, so I kissed him and went to work with big grin and a mug of joe and a hard-on in my Dickies.

That night, we were on the couch. We’d been rewatching Stranger Things season 1, and that night we were up to (I dunno) chapter five or something. I don’t really know because I was hard and distracted, and he was hard, and I could feel him next to me wanting me. Then he got up and knelt between my legs and before I knew it I was getting a pretty decent blow job for (as I later found out) a beejay virgin. And the funny thing was I was really into it and his mouth felt great on my dick and at the same time it was quite what I wanted, because what I really wanted was to play with his chest hair. He swallowed my load and it was phenomenal. He’d cum in his hand. I stood with him, wanting to wrap him in a hug and feel out bodies together, but my hand slid along his forearm and he moved back from me, holding out the fist that had his cum in it kind of awkwardly and giving me this look like there was something we weren’t ready for yet.

I blinked at him, and he just looked back at me, like he wanted me, but there was something in our way. So I just stared at him, drinking him in, thinking, Okay, soon. Cool. No rush. Meanwhile, I can jerk off thinking about him, right?

As soon as my brain went there, my eyes dropped to his chest and all the hair hiding behind the yellow pocket tee he had on that night… and as soon as they did he took another little involuntary step backwards, almost falling over the coffee table, and I knew. His body hair… for him, his body hair was an erogenous zone, probably a very powerful and intense one. And he had no idea how to deliberately make that a part of the intimacy that was developing between us.

I looked at him and my look must have told him something, because he sort of froze up, wished me good night, and then turned and tromped up the creaky stairs to his room, still clinching a fistfull of cum. I watched him go, my dick still hanghing out of my work pants, then flicked a glance at the flatscreen where David Harbour happened to be scowling at someone like they were an idiot. I snorted. “I know,” I said. “Keep your pants on, I’ll fix it.”

Taking the sheriff’s advice, I let Isaiah settle and then went to him. My pulse sped up as I saw his door was ajar, the lights within off, with only the stairwell light and a bit of moonglow to see by. I crept in, pausing near the door and locking my eyes with the glint of his in the darkness. I was naked, because this was about our bodies and what we did with them, and there was no point pretending otherwise. I knew he could see me. “Hey,” I said softly.

“Hey,” came his voice.

The room was big, with large windows, and mostly empty apart from the bed, a desk in one corner, a chest of drawers, and a few bookshelves. As my eyes adjusted, I saw he was splayed out on the mattress, without a cover sheet, naked apart from a pair of gray boxer-briefs. His legs were furry, too, though not as much as his torso. It occurred to me the high-contrast scene would have been perfect for my cousin who does pen and ink drawings, though I might not have wanted him lovingly detailing the big, semisoft bulge I was kinda feeling like I had dibs on.

I climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips, and set the object I’d brought with me to one side for the moment, freeing my hands. He watched me closely, nervous but trusting. I watched him, too, alert for any sign he wanted me to stop.

Lifting my hands, I spread my palms just above his chest, not quite touching any part of him. He drew in a sharp breath of anticipation, then nodded, ever so slightly.

I lowered my hands very slightly, making contact with just the tips of his chest hair, and started moving them.

Isaiah closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as I tantalized him, disturbing his chest hair every so slightly. His cock pulsed twice against my ass, I think from a mix of pleasure and expectation. I was already hard, knowing I was getting to him.

I moved my hands in slow circles, at first keeping to the area of his chest, then expanding outward. I ghosted my hands over his arms, finding the fade-in of thickening hair toward his lower biceps above the elbow, then continuing down over those forearms I so admired, keeping the same distance I had on his just so that I was just brushing the outer fringes of his thick, curled, sense-communicating follicles.

He was watching me now, waiting to see what I would be doing. I moved back to his chest and he made a tiny noise in his throat, then I moved down to his abs—not a six pack, but firm and flat and very hairy. His thick cock had swollen jerkily to near-total firmness under my ass, and I let the curve of my glute rest against its increasing firmness as I worked.

I moved my hands back up to just above his chest, then pulled them back dramatically. Suppressing a smile at his dismay, I reached over and picked up the object I’d brought with me, holding it up for him to see: a small, soft hairbrush of the sort my sister had used. I’d found a few in the closet after they’d moved out, still in their packaging.

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, not sure whether to laugh, though his hard-on pulsed encouragingly against my ass cheek. “Never been used,” I said softly. As he watched, I brought the brush down and started to draw the soft bristles through the thick hair covering his left pec, not quite touching the skin but engaging every bit of hair I could.

Isaiah’s mouth fell open as he sort of reverse gasped—this was clearly a new sensation for him. I paused, catching his eye. “Keep going?” I asked.

His dick jabbed at my ass-cheek. He nodded, eyes on the brush. I grinned and resumed what I’d been doing, slowly dragging the brush through his sensitive pelt of chest hair, his reactions telling me it was like every single hair was wired directly to his balls. With each brush I was giving him thousands of tiny pleasures.

I worked across the left pec toward the center, taking my time, then moved to the right pec, against working from the outside in. The whole time, Isaiah’s fat, bone-hard erection was jerking and flexing against my glute, telling me this was what my roomie needed. When I got to the center I made a second pass over his pecs, this time pushing in a little so that the bristles were gliding against his skin as I moved through the chest-hair jungle. He made that little noise again, causing my own dick to buck happily in my groin.

At the end of this second pass I made as if to move the brush down onto the abs, but at the last moment I jerked the brush aside and dive-bombed his chest, pushing my face through his furry cleavage and drawing a loud moan out of him. I angled up and kissed him hard, getting the same passion back I was giving him.

I pulled back and caught his eyes again, enjoying the rare feel of beard burn against my lips. My last boyfriend, years before, had been obsessively clean-shaven, so this was a novel change, and I loved it for the feel of it and for the way it was almost like a reciprocation of the hair stimulation I was giving him.

I was panting. Isaiah was hungry, eager for me to pleasure him more, to escalate from foreplay to something more. I’d noticed the supplies he’d unpacked into his nightstand on moving day when we were bringing the boxes up, so all I said was, “Suit up.”

In what felt like no time he’d gotten the boxes down and kicked off and slid on the condom and lube. I sat back, letting him guide the head into the correct position against my anus. I sat there, poised, watching his handsome face, his beard looking almost full in the minimal light. “Brush or hands?” I asked quietly.

He gave me a crooked smile, like the one he’d shared with me when he handed me my travel mug of joe. “Hands,” he said. “I want to feel your hands.”

I grinned and pushed down, letting him guide his fat, blunt cock past my tight ring of muscle. Then he took his hand away and I started seating him deeper and deeper into me, inch by slow inch. At the same time, I lowered my fingertips and started plowing them slowly through the thick hair covering his chest.

Isaiah moaned. “You like that?” I asked.

“Unnnhh,” he said, his head falling back as I sifted through his hair as slowly and as sensually as I could. “Fuck, Rider. No one’s ever… no one’s ever gotten it before.”

I leaned down to kiss him, interrupting his soft pants. He responded eagerly, but I didn’t let it go on long. I sat up, driving him all the way into me, stimulating his chest hair the whole time. He groaned. “Fuck, Rider,” he said again, like a mantra. I shifted up, letting him piston into me as I moved my hands in circles over his chest.

I paused. “Nipples?” I asked softly.

He shook his head. “Just the hair.”

“You got it.”

As he slow-fucked me, I moved one hand down and started pushing my fingers through his ab hair below and his chest hair above. “Oh, yes,” he whined. “You have no idea—!”

“I’m ignoring your legs,” I said.

“Next time,” he mumbled, lost in pleasure.

“And your back. Is your back hairy, Isaiah?”

He grinned, a little deliriously. “So hairy,” he said.

“We’ll have to try this with you flipped over sometime, then,” I said, wanting him to imagine that very thing. It must have worked because he moaned against and started pounding me.

“I’m getting close, Rider!” he said.

I was already there, holding back so we could blast together. “I’m gonna cum in your chest hair, dude!” I said, now working his actual pecs as well as his chest hair, layering his stimulation. “You’re going to feel it all!”

“Rider, fuck, I’m—!” Suddenly he stilled and I felt him pulsing inside me and I instantly erupted, shooting big arcs of white cum all into his chest hair. I even shot a bit into his beard. “Yeah—yeah—aw fuck, yeah,” he said, unfreezing and settling bonelessly into the mattress as he reached the end of his climax.

I let his spent cock slide from me ass and reached behind me to pull off and tie the condom, dropping it in the basket by the bed. Then I very deliberately settled my pecs against his, mushing our bodies together and letting his thick coat of cummy body hair mingle with my sparser spread of chest décor. “I’m getting you all messy,” he said, smiling unrepentantly.

“Fair’s fair,” I answered. “What’s sauce for the gander is sauce for the other gander.”

“Ew, don’t call it ‘sauce,’” he murmured.

We kissed a little and snuggled gooily for a while, enjoying a very satisfying afterglow, then decided to find his en suite and explore the sensitivity of wet body hair to fingers, hands, and mouths. “I may just hide all of your non-work shirts,” I said as we walked to the bathroom, eyeing his chest and abs with respect. “I am sorely tempted to play with your chest hair every chance I get.”

He drew in a breath at this. “You first,” he said, tossing me a shy smile and casting an admiring look at my own defined, naked chest, matted chest hair and all. “Fair’s fair.”

“You got yourself a deal,” I said with a sly smirk. Shirts were overrated anyway… especially on this guy.

Vote on this story

Metabods is an alternative gay erotica site involving fantasy situations. All relevant characters are intended to be 18 years or older. If you encounter a story in which it appears that is not the case, please use the “Report a problem with this story” link directly under the tag list to call it to our attention, and that story will be placed under immediate review. Thank you.

Selene’s song by BRK Visiting a nearby carnival staffed by an array of very realistic “monsters” with his college buddies, film student William happens across a funfair movie-house just off the midway showing a selection of mysterious and obscure items—including an unknown horror-genre “found footage” werewolf short William knows he can’t leave without seeing. 16k words Added Mar 2024 12k views 5.0 stars (12 votes) No comments yet •Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Transformation•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Size Increase•Human to Animal/Anthro•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair•First Time/Virgin•Minotaurs•Orcs•Werewolves•Urban Fantasy•Horror•Supernatural•Halloween•Complete •M/M

Simian massage by BRK Danny, a cold and cocky Yukuza enforcer, is ordered to take care of a double-dealing masseur—only to find himself under magical attack. 5,462 words Added Nov 2023 9,037 views 5.0 stars (11 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Muscle Growth•Increased Libido•Human to Animal/Anthro•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair•Tongue Growth•Dom/Sub•Nonconsensual change •M/M

Stadium brew by BRK Three cousins at a football game down some concession-stand beer, and before long they’re in a deserted men’s room getting bigger and hairier and hornier for each other. 5 parts 25k words Added Nov 2023 Updated 20 Jul 2024 35k views 4.9 stars (57 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Public Orgasm•Straight to Gay•Muscle Growth•Increased Libido•Getting Taller•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair•Incest•Alcohol •M/M/M•M/M/M/...

Genetic time bomb by BRK A frustrated young model/extra is tired of his baby-face casting, not realizing an entirely new kind of gig is just around the corner. 1,993 words Added Dec 2024 7,321 views 4.9 stars (7 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Transformation•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair•Complete •M/M

Frat crisis by BRK Jacob returns to his frat after a week away to find it stinking of sex and full of guys a lot bigger than he remembered them being. 2 parts 5,217 words Added Jun 2022 Updated 2 Dec 2023 34k views 4.8 stars (36 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Hyper Cum•Straight to Gay•Pec Fucking•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair•Nonconsensual change•Infectious•Complete•College/University •M/M•M/M/M•M/M/M/...

The Mod by BRK A couple on their anniversary cruise tries that new designer transformation drug, only they don't quite get what they bargain for. 1,594 words Added Jun 2019 18k views 4.8 stars (12 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Cock Shrinking•Huge Cock•Multi-abs•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Getting Taller•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair •M/M

Derek and Simon by BRK Newlyweds Derek and Simon suspect their new house might be haunted, and after sharing a few bottles of wine one night testing that theory starts to sound like a good idea. 5,244 words Added Jul 2022 20k views 4.7 stars (15 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Transformation•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Age Progression•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair•Dom/Sub•Merging•Shared Body•Ghosts•Supernatural•Complete•Alcohol •M/M•M/M/M

That’s my bush! by BRK Gerry had no body hair, much to his chagrin. He’d always thought it made him less masculine. So he felt a little called out by the ads appearing on his web pages lately for a brand of hot underwear worn only by the most manly of men. 2,232 words Added Jun 2023 8,512 views 4.6 stars (14 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Gradual Change•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hair play/Body hair•Nonconsensual change•Complete •M/M