Diary of a Bottom — Kiptoo

Diary of a bottom -- Kiptoo

The second the water hit my face, I exhaled like I had just crossed some kind of finish line. The heat soaked into my skin, rolling down over my forehead, cheeks, and jaw, and I just stood there, letting it happen. Letting it strip away the heaviness in my limbs, the knot of tension in my back, the dried sweat clinging to my collar.

I'm not the athletic type. Never have been. But this year -- New Year's Day, full of big talk and half-believed promises -- I told myself I'd hit the gym at least once a week. And so far, I had stuck to it. Barely. Every session left me sore in muscles I didn't know I had. Every time I went, I wanted to quit halfway through. If it weren't for him, I probably would have quit after the first month.

The shower got almost too hot, and I loved it. The heat poured over me, washing away the weight, the fatigue, everything that had been clinging to me. In this moment, under the steady hum of the water, I wasn't thinking about anything -- I just felt the calm settle in. Spent, yes -- but in a good way. As the steam rose around me, fogging the mirror and softening the world outside, I let myself sink into this quiet, peaceful feeling.

I didn't hear the bathroom door open -- just felt the change in the air, the subtle shift behind me. Then powerful hands slid gently around my waist, the calluses scratching my skin. I smiled, not needing to turn to now who had joined me in the shower.

"Congratulations on surviving today," Kiptoo murmured against my shoulder, his voice low and soft.

"Almost didn't make it during the lunges," I said, leaning back into him. "You're a sadist."

Feeling his flaccid cock weighting against my ass, I nonchalantly hinged further back, trying to pin it between my cheeks.

"You're the one who asked me to train you," Kiptoo chuckled.

That was true. He had been patient, more than I deserved. Writing my program, correcting my form, pushing me just hard enough without ever making me feel weak for struggling... and, most importantly, showing me how to perform the exercises. To be honest, I'd have happily paid the gym membership just to watch him work out. I can't put into words how much I loved watching him sweat under the bar.

The way his body moved with effortless power, every muscle shifting and straining, glistening with sweat... it was like he'd be putting on a show just for me. I could have watched him for hours, pretending to catch my breath when really I'm just admiring the view. Just thinking about it was enough to get me hard... although feeling his warmth pressed against my backside was probably also partially to blame.

Kiptoo got closer to me, stepping fully into the stream of the shower, his skin slick against mine. For a moment, we just stood like that, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder, the water cascading down over both of us, my dick throbbing with anticipation.

"You're starting to get leaner," Kiptoo said, his fingers trailing across my sides.

"I've been following your diet very carefully."

I inhaled deeply, my heartbeat rising as his fingers slide down my waist to my hips. Surprisingly, I didn't lie. I had been working hard to get results, to make him proud, to make myself worthy of his attention.

He didn't say it, but I knew it to be true: he could do better than me. He was the kind of guy who could be with someone who fitted into his world, someone who challenged him, kept up with him. I knew I was just some distraction, a break between whatever else he was pursuing. But I was fine with that. I wasn't looking for anything more than this, really. I'm just glad I was allowed to get on his ride for a while.

"That's good. Keep working hard and you'll reap the benefits in no time."

"I'm already reaping them," I interjected, leaning into him more heavily, rubbing my hips against his cock. I was slightly disappointed he didn't even have a chubby going on while I was already rock hard.

"You did hit a new PR on your squat today," Kiptoo said, voice all innocent as his fingers traced slow circles around my hips.

He was even gracious enough to not remind me that my PR was his warm-up set.

"Was that the first time you managed to squat more than your bodyweight?"

"I don't know, you're the number cruncher. I just get under the bar and look pretty."

"Well, doesn't matter anyways!" Kiptoo said, suddenly slapping my butt. "Since you managed to hit a new PR, you've earned the right to wash my back today!"

Pushing me gently to the side, he walked past me and leaned against the wall under the showerhead, hands pressed flat against the cool surface, legs spread slightly apart. He looked like he was getting ready for a frisk.

His back was wide and muscular. The water running down his v-taper made his rippling muscles glisten beautifully. Resisting the urge to touch myself, I grabbed the soap and worked it into my hands, focusing on the foam bubbling up between my fingers instead of the living sculpture exposing himself to me.

I felt awkward when I stepped behind him. Usually, our positions were reversed. Trying to ignore my dick throbbing desperately, I placed my hands on his middle-back. The muscles beneath my palms were firm and round, a beautiful blend of strength and grace.

I began to wash him, my fingers tracing the contours of his body with care, working the soap into the curves of his shoulders and down his spine. Each stroke felt intimate, like I was mapping out every inch of him, feeling the soft, smooth skin beneath the soapy lather. I let my hands linger over each muscles, savouring the sensation of his body shifting and responding to my touch. Rather than washing another human being, it felt like I was polishing a perfect sculpture of black marble.

I licked my lips, feeling my desire grow. My chest and my throat tightened, barely able to contain my excitement. It wasn't enough to just touch it. I wanted more. I needed more. My face bursting with heat, I kissed him, right on the back of the neck.

My hands gripping his triceps, I let my lips run across his body, kissing each muscle in turn--from his swollen traps to his boulder-like deltoids, pausing over the rhomboids before sliding down to his lower traps

"You're finally starting to get calluses too," Kiptoo remarked. "That's very good."

He spoke so casually, I couldn't tell if he even noticed how charged the moment was--or if it was just me. Feeling a bit hurt, I only managed a vague, wordless groan.

Resting my forehead against the middle of his back, I give his triceps one final squeeze before sliding my hands down to stroke his lats, marvelling at their width, savouring their density. A soft sound of pleasure slipped from my parted lips this time. My fingers were reaping the fruits of years of hard work and relentless discipline. Following the line of his spine, my lips brushed each defined striation of his powerful erectors as I slowly sank to my knees.

His ass was a work of art--round, high, and firm, radiating sheer strength. Again, I caught my tongue drifting across my lips. Forgiving him instantly for his mishap, I seized it almost feverishly, my fingers digging into the dense muscle like talons. The power beneath my hands was staggering. My erection throbbed, angry and insistent, as my chest rose with a surge of jealousy and raw, aching desire.

Wrapping my arms around his legs, I closed my eyes and mouthed the curve of his right cheek, my lips tracing the smooth skin in slow, deliberate movements--savouring every inch, delivering a silent promise of more.

Most men have disappointing asses, but his--his were hypnotic, as captivating as a woman's, balancing strength and grace. I fought the urge to move closer to the crease, no matter how much I ached to slide my tongue down that inviting line, to gently part those perfect cheeks and taste the hidden wonders beyond. I knew where his limits lay. Instead, I slid my hands up his thighs, reaching for his cock.

A pang of disappointment hit me when I found it--he wasn't hard yet. Trying to quiet the whimper of my ego, I wrapped my fingers around him and began stroking gently. Even soft, his cock was longer and thicker than mine at full erection. It felt even bigger now, when the only thing guiding my imagination was the feedback through my hands. I felt his body begin to respond--his legs shifting, muscles tightening under the combined assaults of my mouth and hands.

Just as I was feasting on the curve of his right glute--my mouth hungrily claiming the flesh, lost in the taste of him--he turned off the water. Gently, he pried my hands away from his cock and turned to face me. I stayed kneeling on my calves, offering a bashful smile, trying to look as dewy-eyed and demure as possible. He ran a hand over his face to brush away the droplets, then returned my smile--and my stomach fluttered.

His usual expression held a quiet intensity, his features set in a sternness that could easily be mistaken for intimidation. But when he smiled like that, the hard lines of his face softened, and a warmth beyond words seemed to pour straight into my heart. My cheeks flushed crimson, despite the cool water still trailing down my skin.

He cupped the back of my head with a firm but gentle hand, pulling me closer, and our lips met in a kiss that was deep and urgent. A rush of emotions flooded through me -- desire, affection, and a trace of nervousness -- each one intertwining in the moment.

Each brush of his lips, the mingling of our breaths, the press of his tongue against mine--it was a promise, a silent affirmation of how much he wanted me. In that kiss, my bruised ego healed instantly. I felt seen. Desired. An overwhelming sense of trust washed over me, as though I was surrendering to him.

As he straightened up, I noticed him idly shaking his cock with his other hand. It wasn't fully erect yet, but it had grown and swelled beautifully during our kiss. Gripping his thighs, I parted my lips, still wet from our kiss, and extended my tongue, locking eyes with him despite the heat rising in my cheeks--silently inviting him to claim my mouth.

Instead of accepting, he teasingly tapped my tongue with his cock.

"Do you want it?" He asked, almost tauntingly, rubbing his swollen tip over my lips.

"Hng, hng!" I moaned, nodding my head, my tongue still sticking out.

Leaning back against the shower wall, he aimed his cocked at my face, almost as if pointing a gun at me. There was a slight curve downward, making it seem like the weight of the glans was too much for the shaft to support. It would have looked comical on a smaller guy, but on him, it was endearing, somehow making him appear even bulkier than he already was.

"Then come closer!" He said, shaking his cock at me like I was a dog about to play fetch.

Rather than insulting me, the comparison turned me on even more.

Rising to my knees, I leaned forward, bringing my face dangerously close to his cock. I noticed with pleasure that he was not only fully erect but throbbing hard now, pulsating hungrily toward me. In a cheeky act of defiance, I let my lips linger just beneath it, allowing the warmth of my breath to tease it for a few heartbeats.

Quickly frustrated with my own play, I parted my lips, inviting him inside. He felt heavy on my tongue, pressing it against the floor of my mouth and drawing out a wave of saliva. I swallowed, then decided to deepthroat him from the get go.

With my mouth as wide as possible, I slid down his curve, taking the beast straight to the back of my throat. The tension in the air thickened--charged and silent--save for the quiet, wet sounds between us. I moved up and down quickly, a warm-up for both of us, lubricating my throat and his cock. Even with plenty of practice, I still couldn't take more than half of it down.

I stepped back the moment my throat tightened, careful not to upset my gag reflex so early. My eyes were already welling with tears. As I blinked, clearing my vision, his six-pack came into focus, like two chocolate bars emerging from a blur. His wet abs glistened under the soft light, each muscle defined and shimmering, droplets trailing down his sculpted form.

I felt drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

I straightened as much as I could, keeping my knees on the cold, wet floor. My lips traced the curves of his abs, each kiss deepening with increasing intensity. My tongue followed the defined muscles, savouring every inch as I lost myself in the warmth of his body, caught in the undeniable pull of the moment. In the back of my mind, I wondered if my own abs were as defined and beautiful, hidden beneath the layer of fat. Probably not.

I could feel his cock pressing against my chest, like an angry, jealous beast.

I wrapped my fingers around it, stroking slow and firm, trying to appease it--but it only twitched harder in my grip, thick and furious, like I'd only made it madder. I smiled with a savage satisfaction, forgetting my place for a spell. That cock that had been so slow to harden for me earlier was now begging for my attention.

Leaving his chiselled abs behind, I sank back onto my calves, planting slow, deliberate kisses along the ridges of his trunk. Each kiss was a mark of possession, a quiet assertion of control. The heat between us intensified with every inch, the tension growing thick until I breathed in the warmth rising from his groin, fully aware of the power I held in the moment.

I paused just above his cock, letting my breath fan over the throbbing beat without touching it. I wanted Kiptoo to feel the wait--to crave it. My eyes stayed on his, steady and unflinching, as I let my lips hover a breath away from him, daring him to beg. I didn't move until I felt it: the subtle shift in his stance, the tightening of his abs, the way his cock twitched with frustration. Then, and only then, I let my tongue flick out, slow and deliberate, tracing the underside with the kind of restraint that made every second feel like a challenge.

A sound, halfway between a moan of pleasure and a sigh of relief, escaped Kiptoo's lips.

Something deep within me roared with pleasure at this quiet victory.

Taking a wicked pleasure in stretching out the moment, I reached for his balls, fondling them with my fingers while licking his tip with deliberate slowness. My gaze remained locked with his. I watched every subtle shift, the clench of his jaw, the way his muscles tensed beneath my control. He was desperate, I could feel it, but I wasn't ready to give in yet. My breath fanned over him, teasing, until I let my lips brush the very tip of his cock, just barely making contact. I held it there, savouring the moment, pushing him to the edge. Kiptoo shifted again, his frustration palpable, and that's when I finally allowed my lips to wrap around him--slow and deliberate.

His swollen head felt like a soft, warm jawbreaker in my mouth. Holding his shaft with one hand, I let my tongue explore every contour of it, savouring the way his body reacted to each shift and flick. Kiptoo's hands tangled in my hair, not pushing, just holding, as though grounding himself. He didn't have to say anything. I could feel everything he wanted in the way he trembled beneath my mouth, in the soft, involuntary sounds that spilled from his lips.

I couldn't hold it any longer.

I hollowed my cheeks, creating that tight pull, and the way Kiptoo moaned told me I'd hit the mark. His hips bucked once, sharp and instinctive, and his grip in my hair tightened. He let out a low, fractured breath as I started going down on him, my hands anchoring against his thighs. His quadriceps were so tensed up, I could feel every striation of the muscles under the palm of my hands. I drew him in deeper, slowly, rhythmically, the pressure building with each pass. His voice broke on a whisper of my name, half-plea, half-praise, and I felt it all--his need, his surrender, the trembling edge he was riding as I kept him there, right on the cusp.

He wouldn't be able to hold it much longer either.

Grabbing his cock with both hands, hoisting it above my face, I started jerking him off like a madman, the muscles in my forearms tensing with the effort. The sounds it made, wet and heavy, were intoxicating. Gritting my teeth, I went even harder.

A grunt of pleasure above. A second of stillness.

Then Kiptoo exploded.

A sudden jet of white cum erupted from the monster, splattering across my face in thick, warm ribbons. It hit with force, not just a drizzle but a slap of syrupy sludge that glued my eyelashes together and dripped down my chin in long, glistening threads.

Still a bit stunned by the force of the explosion, I wiped my face with the back of my hand--only smearing it worse--then glanced down at the monster still clutched in my other hand. It twitched weakly, dribbling the last of its mess over my fingers. Behind it, Kiptoo's chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, his body unwinding in the hush that followed. I didn't dare look any higher, too sheepish now to meet his eyes, not after the spell had quite literally exploded all over me.

Kiptoo was the one to come meet me, squatting down to meet me eyes to eyes. I felt my cheeks burn up under their scrutiny. A wicked little smile playing on his lips, he was making no efforts to hide the delight in his eyes as he took in the mess. A finger reached up and gently swiped a thick thread of cum from my cheek--slow and deliberate.

"Since you worked so hard," He said softly, holding his fingertip to my lips. "Might as well get a taste."

I opened my mouth without hesitation, letting his finger press against my tongue. The cum was warm, with a bitter, metallic taste--but the touch, the look in Kiptoo's eyes, made it taste sickeningly sweet.