Telephoto Lens.
folder
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,150
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,150
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.
Telephoto Lens.
New Zealand had some of the most beautiful landscapes ever seen, and Karl Urban was amazed that as a local Kiwi he hadn’t seen such places as these. They were having a break in the filming of the Lord of The Rings trilogy, and he decided to explore with his camera. Learning about his country in a book was vastly different from learning about it while gazing at the mountain ranges himself, or the vast forests.
Perched on a rock up cropping he lifted his 35 mm to his eye, and began adjusting the telephoto lens to get some great down-view shots. Below him were sporadic woods and small lakes. Simply gorgeous to gaze upon, and he intended to immortalize it on film. His finger lifted off the button when he caught sight of a blurry form below. Adjusting the lens he grinned, one dark brow shooting up high on his forehead.
“Well, well. Hello, Viggo!” The actor who played Aragorn was shedding his clothes, and Karl smirked as he took a few shots to later show said stripper. With an artist’s eye ~~ though were he honest he’d admit Viggo was the artist ~~ he appreciated the oldan’san’s physique. “Christ he’s in good shape for a man his age.” And he could appreciate the work Viggo probably had to put into staying in that good of shape. He himself had had to be in top form when he was acting as Cupid or Caesar in Xena or Hercules.
Turning the lenre hre he tightened on the man’s back, seeing the smooth lines and ripple of muscles as he moved. Down lower to the man’s posterior. Hard flanks, round with dimples, and still firm. He had long legs, slightly furred and with hard thighs and calves where muscle was still defined beneath the warm sheathing of flesh. Karl could only hope to age so well. No wonder Viggo was pegged as the top hunk of the trilogy.
Viggo turned slightly to pile his clothes neatly, and Karl snapped photos of a flat stomach and the slightest peeking of a semi-aroused penis. Then the man dove into the frigid waters and swam strongly. Karl shivered just thinking of how cold that water had to feel. The air had a definite bite to it, snow had fallen last night and still clung to shaded areas, and the water had to be sharp as a knife. Viggo did not remain long, and Karl kept the camera panned on him as he exited.
Gooseflesh and water dotted his skin, and the sun made the small drops of liquid shine like diamonds in his body hair. From a nest of dark curls sprinkled with shining water droplets was a penis at rest, but as Viggo used his hands to sluice the water off his body and shook his member it began tockencken slowly, and elongate. Karl’s breathing increased, and he realized his own shaft was beginning to rise in response.
He should leave Viggo to his privacy, but he couldn’t look away. And when the older man reached both hands up to push his wet hair from his face every muscle in his front bulged and stretched, his hips jutted out slightly, and that defined the growing length of his awakening cock. Then one hand fell, and without any remorse Viggo caught at his member and rubbed just below the head with the pad of his thumb. His flingers then encircled it, and slowly and teasingly slid from the head to the base and back again. His cock now jabbed at the cool air with aggressiveness, grown to capacity.
Karl’s nostrils flared, and he shifted his weight to make his own engorged cock more comfortable in the confines of his denims. With one hand Viggo played with himself, and with the other he stroked at hiest.est. Suddenly he stopped, and turned his back. “Jesus, don’t stop now,” croaked Karl between gasping breaths despite admiring the firm roundness of the other man’s ass when he bent over.
Viggo did not stop yet. He spread a blanket out, and lay upon it. One knee drawn up he spread his legs slightly and returned a hand to between them. More comfortable now his ministrations became more energetic and aggressive. Karl could almost picture hearing the slap, slap of that hand beating the length of that steely cock. Wetting his lips he dropped to his knees and squeezed his own legs shut to try to ease the pain of his own arousal.
Karl never would have thought that watching a man masturbate could be such a beautiful event. Where women were curved and soft men were sleek and hard. Limbs defined by long lines of concrete muscles beneath heated and furred skin. The illusion of softness over granite. Broad hands with long fingers, and calluses on palms to give that extra thrill when smoothing it over flesh. And the masterpiece of it all, an appendage that at rest was as docile as a babe, and yet when awakened as fierce as a predator in its hunger. Determined in its need to be pleasured, able to withstand over-eager ministrations and willing to plumb tight depths, and strong enough to reduce a man to tears with the ferocity of the ache of unfulfilled pleasure. It could rise to nearly every occasion, and drive a man mindless in the throes of passion.
Such was the condition of his own arousal at the moment. A moan escaped him, and he fumbled with the button and zipper of his denims. The cold air did not alleviate his pain, and he curled his long fingers around himself and squeezed with just enough pressure to make a gasp of pleasure tear from his lips. Through the telephoto lens he could still see Viggo, and Karl matched his ministrations to the speed and roughness of the other man’s. Lips parted with his own panting he knew he would not last much longer.
Just then Viggo’s hips arched, and a jet of creamy white seed spurted from the head of his cock and over his hand. Karl groaned as his own orgasm mirrored Viggo’s, and droplets fell to the rock beneath him. When his vision cleared he saw Viggo was on his feet, and dressing. The older man looked up, and Karl froze to see the lips moving in a slow and clearly readable question.
‘Did you come too?’
Viggo knew? Had it all been just for show? Lowering the camera Karl did not watch the older man’s departure from the lake’s side. Would Viggo be upset? Would he be amused? What the hell did he do now? ‘Did you come too?’ Yeah, he had, and obviously Viggo had enjoyed the audience as much as the audience had enjoyed the show.
Perched on a rock up cropping he lifted his 35 mm to his eye, and began adjusting the telephoto lens to get some great down-view shots. Below him were sporadic woods and small lakes. Simply gorgeous to gaze upon, and he intended to immortalize it on film. His finger lifted off the button when he caught sight of a blurry form below. Adjusting the lens he grinned, one dark brow shooting up high on his forehead.
“Well, well. Hello, Viggo!” The actor who played Aragorn was shedding his clothes, and Karl smirked as he took a few shots to later show said stripper. With an artist’s eye ~~ though were he honest he’d admit Viggo was the artist ~~ he appreciated the oldan’san’s physique. “Christ he’s in good shape for a man his age.” And he could appreciate the work Viggo probably had to put into staying in that good of shape. He himself had had to be in top form when he was acting as Cupid or Caesar in Xena or Hercules.
Turning the lenre hre he tightened on the man’s back, seeing the smooth lines and ripple of muscles as he moved. Down lower to the man’s posterior. Hard flanks, round with dimples, and still firm. He had long legs, slightly furred and with hard thighs and calves where muscle was still defined beneath the warm sheathing of flesh. Karl could only hope to age so well. No wonder Viggo was pegged as the top hunk of the trilogy.
Viggo turned slightly to pile his clothes neatly, and Karl snapped photos of a flat stomach and the slightest peeking of a semi-aroused penis. Then the man dove into the frigid waters and swam strongly. Karl shivered just thinking of how cold that water had to feel. The air had a definite bite to it, snow had fallen last night and still clung to shaded areas, and the water had to be sharp as a knife. Viggo did not remain long, and Karl kept the camera panned on him as he exited.
Gooseflesh and water dotted his skin, and the sun made the small drops of liquid shine like diamonds in his body hair. From a nest of dark curls sprinkled with shining water droplets was a penis at rest, but as Viggo used his hands to sluice the water off his body and shook his member it began tockencken slowly, and elongate. Karl’s breathing increased, and he realized his own shaft was beginning to rise in response.
He should leave Viggo to his privacy, but he couldn’t look away. And when the older man reached both hands up to push his wet hair from his face every muscle in his front bulged and stretched, his hips jutted out slightly, and that defined the growing length of his awakening cock. Then one hand fell, and without any remorse Viggo caught at his member and rubbed just below the head with the pad of his thumb. His flingers then encircled it, and slowly and teasingly slid from the head to the base and back again. His cock now jabbed at the cool air with aggressiveness, grown to capacity.
Karl’s nostrils flared, and he shifted his weight to make his own engorged cock more comfortable in the confines of his denims. With one hand Viggo played with himself, and with the other he stroked at hiest.est. Suddenly he stopped, and turned his back. “Jesus, don’t stop now,” croaked Karl between gasping breaths despite admiring the firm roundness of the other man’s ass when he bent over.
Viggo did not stop yet. He spread a blanket out, and lay upon it. One knee drawn up he spread his legs slightly and returned a hand to between them. More comfortable now his ministrations became more energetic and aggressive. Karl could almost picture hearing the slap, slap of that hand beating the length of that steely cock. Wetting his lips he dropped to his knees and squeezed his own legs shut to try to ease the pain of his own arousal.
Karl never would have thought that watching a man masturbate could be such a beautiful event. Where women were curved and soft men were sleek and hard. Limbs defined by long lines of concrete muscles beneath heated and furred skin. The illusion of softness over granite. Broad hands with long fingers, and calluses on palms to give that extra thrill when smoothing it over flesh. And the masterpiece of it all, an appendage that at rest was as docile as a babe, and yet when awakened as fierce as a predator in its hunger. Determined in its need to be pleasured, able to withstand over-eager ministrations and willing to plumb tight depths, and strong enough to reduce a man to tears with the ferocity of the ache of unfulfilled pleasure. It could rise to nearly every occasion, and drive a man mindless in the throes of passion.
Such was the condition of his own arousal at the moment. A moan escaped him, and he fumbled with the button and zipper of his denims. The cold air did not alleviate his pain, and he curled his long fingers around himself and squeezed with just enough pressure to make a gasp of pleasure tear from his lips. Through the telephoto lens he could still see Viggo, and Karl matched his ministrations to the speed and roughness of the other man’s. Lips parted with his own panting he knew he would not last much longer.
Just then Viggo’s hips arched, and a jet of creamy white seed spurted from the head of his cock and over his hand. Karl groaned as his own orgasm mirrored Viggo’s, and droplets fell to the rock beneath him. When his vision cleared he saw Viggo was on his feet, and dressing. The older man looked up, and Karl froze to see the lips moving in a slow and clearly readable question.
‘Did you come too?’
Viggo knew? Had it all been just for show? Lowering the camera Karl did not watch the older man’s departure from the lake’s side. Would Viggo be upset? Would he be amused? What the hell did he do now? ‘Did you come too?’ Yeah, he had, and obviously Viggo had enjoyed the audience as much as the audience had enjoyed the show.