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In the second week, Holsom's behavior began to make Tucker start to think that the burst of fear he first experienced had been dismissed a bit too lightly. When his thoughts came back to the project and the site visit that was going to occur in about an hour, he noticed that the cup of coffee was empty. Tucker was not ready for that revelation. From this tall baseball player built E-7 with supreme spit and polish comes prose that borders on the poetic. The writing was neat, well ordered, clear, unambiguous, grammatically correct in two words, elegant and refined. Switching the coffee to his right hand, he leaned back in the chair and started reading. With his just filled coffee cup in his left hand, he moved the mouse. descriptions that were all over the place, execrable grammar and spelling. Tucker was used to reading some really, really rough stuff in the field. On Monday morning, Tucker sat in front of his computer and opened the Weekly Report that Holsom had written. Tucker blew off the rush of negativity as a territorial intrusion, and proceeded with the project at hand.Īt the end of the first week, Holsom composed the final report. However, when Holsom spoke, he was deferential, respectful, and compliant. Holsom perceived Tucker with an instant toxicity Tucker felt an almost palpable dislike shoot through him as if he had been lanced. The façade was convincing, but not in Tucker's presence. He was military through and through, or so it seemed. E-7 Holsom was a big man, balding with a shaved head, in great shape with a manly face, not that of the star, but of the sidekick, the pal, the first baseman, the port in the storm, the Rock of Gibraltar. Tucker nodded to acknowledge the E-7's presence. At that moment, Eric Holsom stepped out of his office into the open area. Standing in front of the open area, Tucker looked about him for the office marked INSPECTIONS. The mature, distinguished Inspector inevitably drew everyone's attention. We did a great deal of "loving" when we were together.Into the office walked Tucker, the well-educated, temperamental engineer, on the first day of his eight week deadline, a gig taken only because an old military friend was in a bind. I fancied myself in love with him at one tome, but nothing ever came of that wish. He was a great kisser! To my knowledge he never did this with any other man. I don't think I turned him gay, but we did enjoy several years of "get togethers" where we mutually sucked each other off. During the night, he fondled me and jacked me off in his sleep, and pulled my hands to his hairy chest, In the morning, he was kissing me, and then giving me the blowjob of my life. Then he invited me to stay the night, and to share his bed. He responded to my sucking him by giving me three loads of wet delicious man cream in quick succession. The cock was easily 8 inches hard, dripping with precum. When I unzipped the jeans and lowered the briefs, I saw a lovely meaty cock surrounded by a large hairy pubic bush. He had a healthy growth of dark, almost black hair across his upper chest and down his abs.
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He was muscular, and the "tall, dark, and handsome" man. We want to his apartment, and while he claimed to be straight, he wanted me to strip him of his clothes, and I marveled at the body that was slowly revealed to me.
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He was a muscular, tall, darkly handsome young man(about 30) and I wanted to see a marine's cock. I met up with a former marine who saw me staring at his crotch and asked if I wanted to suck his cock.