February 12th, 2015, 11:32 AM
The Night Owl
I was leaning against my van on the empty roof level of a parking garage, a usual perch, breathing in the open air and watching the sun set over the jagged skyline. An engine rumbled, and a green sports sedan pulled onto the lot from below. It parked not far from me, and the driver looked my way. I could tell the guy was nervous, hands clenching and unclenching on the wheel, deciding whether or not I was safe.
That's up for debate, though I admit I do look a little sketchy. I was wearing a tight black shirt, blue jeans, black shoes. I'm in my mid-thirties, lean, in shape, with a shaved head. I'm pale with heavy dark eyebrows, brown eyes, a square jaw, and stubble for days - a scruffy man with a bit of the old pretty boy still poking through the seams. I knew I must have looked a little odd, standing there with my thumbs hooked in my pockets, not even smoking a cigarette, as if I'd been waiting for him.
He decided the risk was worth it and got out of his car. He walked toward me with an awkward wave, smiling good-naturedly, like a giant Labrador. This was a fine man. Late twenties, early thirties. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, sturdy waist, thick legs. He wore a buttoned up plaid shirt, pressed jeans, and ridiculous leather moccasins with no socks. His face, though – a beauty. Round and masculine, light brown hair, a trimmed beard over a strong chin, bright blue eyes hidden behind thick glasses, like some blessed crossbreeding of hipster and lumberjack. “Hey there! Sorry to bother you.” A humming baritone.
I shrugged, smiled. “No bother at all.” I glanced at his hand as he put it on his waist, noticed the golden band of a wedding ring. How bothersome.
He went on. “I guess – well, I lost my phone today, and I've been backtracking all afternoon. Know how that is?” He laughed politely, and I caught his eyes on my midsection, where my shirt hugged my flat stomach. There was more than one reason he was nervous, it seemed. He made a rectangle with his hands, as if it would help. “About this big? It's got a blue case. Seen it? I was parked out here earlier.”
“Ah,” I breathed, holding up a hand. “Just a sec.” I opened the passenger door of the van, leaned across, felt the evening air hit the small of my back as my shirt lifted. I fished his phone out of the side pocket, and as I rose I glanced in the rearview mirror. I could see him watching me, and not just because I might have his phone. He was looking at my backside, my exposed skin, staring blatantly, mouth slightly agape. That sealed it.
I unfolded myself and showed him the phone. He immediately grinned, hooted in relief, and I handed it to him. His fingers were soft and warm. “Thanks so much!” he gushed.
“Found it earlier, thought I'd wait for a while, see if anyone showed up to claim it.” I smiled again. “Didn't know what to do with it otherwise.”
He lifted his shirt a bit, pushed it into his pocket. I caught a glimpse of tanned skin. “Oh man, thanks. Thank you. Hey – can I get you anything? Pay you back?” His smiling face met mine, and something he found there cause a ripple of uncertainty. Understandable. I had been watching his big, meaty arms move under his shirt, thinking about how hairy is ass might be.
“Nah, I'm good.” I locked eyes with him, and his brief elation began to falter. “Though, if you really do feel like paying me back, I wouldn't ask for much.” I smiled warmly, leaning against the van with one hand. “Just let me give you a blow job.”
This was met with a silent stare. He looked confused. Caught off guard. Which was fine. We stayed that way for a moment, each staring at the other, before he stammered out an answer. “I – uhm – hey, thanks for finding my phone, but...” He was blushing now, deep reddish pink, looking at the cement, the skyline, anything but me. That was good.
I raised my hands. “Hey, it's cool, no pressure. Just an offer. Thought you might enjoy it.” I jerked a thumb at the van. “I've got a nice setup in there, if you're interested. Clean, cushioned, plenty of beer if you need some loosening up. No one ever comes up here. Anyway...” He was wringing his hands. “Tell you what. You go on and finish up whatever it is you're in the city to do. Whenever you're done, if you think you're up for it, come back here. I'll be here. Chilling.”
“Whatever man, look...I've got to go. Ah...thanks again.” He sauntered to his car, opened the door. I caught him giving me one last look, uncertain and completely off his guard, before he drove away a little too quickly. I shrugged to myself and turned back to the sunset, let the breeze from the ocean hit my face, sighed.
Night came, my favorite time. The buzz of evening traffic rose up from the street below, the occasional honking and the web of clacking shoes. A single light burned over the lot, and my van was parked just outside its direct glow. I opened the door. There were no seats in the back, just a couple layers of soft foam egg crates and various padding. I pushed my footlocker, which held most of my earthly belongings, against the seats in order to maximize the space. I spread out the thick blankets I kept there, straightened the tapestries that covered the tinted windows, pushed the pillows into a pile at the rear of the compartment, hid a bottle of lube under one of the egg crates. You know – just in case.
I turned and sat sideways in the passenger seat, door open, legs stretched, facing the shadowy entrance to the roof, where his car would or would not appear. I chewed on some mint gum, turned the radio on low while I waited. I thumbed through my phone, committing some of the newer content there to memory.
Some hours later, well after the racket below had begun to die down, I heard an engine again. There it was, a green sedan, creeping up from below. It made its way across the lot and parked a few spaces from me, well away from the streetlight. I spit out my gum. I wasn't surprised. Not really. Sometimes the married ones were far more predictable than the drifters.
He approached with his hands in his pockets, the wind pushing up his collar. Man, he was pretty. My cock was already getting hard, pushing against my jeans.
“Hey there. I'd almost given up on you.”
He stopped a good four feet from me, looking me over. I could tell he still liked what he saw. It was as obvious as the fact that he didn't know why he liked it. “I don't know why I'm here,” he said meekly, back straight as a board.
“Looks to me like you just need to have a little fun. Let your hair down. Maybe you're too stressed, hmm?” I produced half of a thick joint, lit up, and took a drag. I offered it to him and he took it, inhaled greedily, coughed.
“So what's with you just hanging out with the van?” he asked, not rude, just curious. “You live in it or something?”
“Most of the time, actually. I took the joint. “I have a few places I can get a bed if I need one, friends in all sorts of places. Other than that, I've got the road to myself.”
“So it's like you said, right? Just a blow job? I don't have to...do anything?”
I took the joint. “Not a thing. Not a damned thing.”
“And – you're not gonna tell anyone?”
Smoke erupted from my mouth and nose as I laughed. “Who would I tell? The police? CNN? I don't know you, and you don't know me. You can get your jollies, get a new experience, and never think about it again. No strings attached.” I handed it back to him.
He took another drag, clapped his hands together lightly. “Well...OK then.” And that was that. I put out the joint.
I pulled the van's door open and half-bowed to him, gestured to the waiting blackness, as if he were a lady. He seemed to mull it over for a moment before hurrying inside, probably nervous that someone might see him out here, which I found funny. As he bent himself to enter his pants drooped and his shirt lifted, giving me a nice view of the small of his back, the crack of his ass. Only a little fuzz there, light brown and barely noticeable. I followed and shut the door behind me.
The windows of the van were draped in tapestries of vaguely Indian design, diffusing the street lights and casting everything in a redish-purple haze. It smelled of incense and a vague mustiness, not unpleasant at all. He was crouched at the back of the van, facing me, supple ass hovering above the pile of pillows. The riot of folded blankets lay beneath him, somewhat disheveled by his passage over them. He was silent, waiting, the muted light from the street glinting off his glasses, throwing his fine face into half-shadow. I positioned myself across from him and lowered myself onto all fours, leaning forward like some stalking predator. He shifted, nearly lost his balance. I grinned. “Glad you showed up.”
He shrugged, obviously at a loss for words. Was he trembling?
I crawled across the tiny space between us and put my hand on his crotch. It was hard. Hard and warm. “Hey!” He fell back on his ass, legs half-closed, thighs squeezing my hand as I kneaded his cock through his jeans. “That was quick!”
I laughed. “This is what we're here for, right? Did you want to talk first?”
He shrugged, and his thighs loosened. I gave his cock a nice, firm massage, and his legs fell open. I leaned back on my knees, looked him over. His shirt had lifted up a little, showing me that tantalizing bit of skin. “Why don't you take your glasses off? I'll put them in the front seat. Don't want those getting broken do we?” He complied automatically, agreeing with my logic. I deposited them on the leather of the driver's seat and went back to him, lowered my head between his legs. “This cool?” I asked, looking up his prone form.
He nodded shakily, breathing heavily, obviously exhilarated. “It's what we're here for, right?” His voice pulsed with anxiety, sharp and unsteady.
I pushed up his shirt and undid his belt buckle. I pulled it free with two sharp yanks, making him grunt as his hips were jerked upward and around, like he was some doll. It was a nice sight. I tossed the belt behind me and went to work on the button of his jeans. He sucked his belly in as I did, shivering. I unzipped him and his jeans opened like a flower as his engorged cock all but fell out of his green plaid boxers. Even in this dim light I could see the big blotch of wetness at the head of it. I bet he'd been thinking about this moment ever since our earlier conversation.
I pulled his jeans down to the middle of his thighs, glanced his way. He was lying down, back arched over the pile of pillows, looking up at the ceiling and taking measured breaths. “I'm gonna take these things off, cool? They'll just get in the way.” He nodded, and I pulled them down around his ankles, tore off his moccasins, and marveled at his thick, slightly hairy thighs and calves, well-muscled with just enough cushioning to make them smooth and curvy in all the right places. My cock was raging in my pants. Even his feet turned me on, big and curved and slightly fuzzed on the top.
“Now these,” I said, fingering the hem of his boxers. He only nodded, still looking up. I pulled the boxers off without teasing him too much, and his thick cock flopped out of them, sticky and hard, rising from a curly mound of light brown pubic hair. His pink balls drooped between his legs as he lifted them, fuzzy and large above a pair of fine, broad ass cheeks.
His legs dropped as I tossed the sticky boxers on top of his jeans and took in the view. He was gripping the blankets on either side of his hips, eyes closed, breathing through his mouth. The bottom button of his shirt had come undone, exposing the slight curve of his smooth belly, the rest of it taught over his well-muscled pecks, which were straining so much that the other buttons might pop off at any second. His cock was still hard, raising above his groin with a slight curve, a solid, thick eight-incher, uncut and leaking. He was a prisoner of his embarrassment, his excitement, is lack of experience. The whole situation was dripping with sex.
I ran my hands up his shins and pushed his knees down while spreading his legs, opening his bottom half like a butterfly, exposing him completely. His cock bobbed toward my lips as his back arched further, ready and waiting. “You ever gotten head from a man?” I asked, watching the tip of his cock glisten in the streetlight.
“Not once,” he said quickly, as if he needed to make a point, as if that point wasn't moot the second he climbed into my van.
I put my hands on his warm inner thighs. They were great warm expanses of sensitive flesh, easy to push down and hold still. I put my tongue on the underside of his cock, ran it up to the tip, pushing into that swollen vein and letting my spit get the whole thing all wet and slippery. His thighs jerked and shuttered in my hands, and he sighed deeply. I looked up at him as my mouth closed around his juicy head, tasted the sweet slickness of his precum, pushed my tongue into is pisshole. His eyes were still closed, but his mouth was hanging open, and he moaned under his breath. I moved back down his cock and put one hand under his floppy balls, on his hot, fuzzy taint, where I lifted them to my mouth, took them in with practiced expertise, trapping them with my lips and massaging them with my tongue. He tasted like sweat, musk, salt. I let a muffled grunt of pleasure vibrate across them. Delicious.
He liked this, I could tell. His eyes opened, blue and crisp, and one hand moved to hover above my bald head, thought better of it, and rested on his hip, slithering toward his cock by never quite getting there. I put my fingers around his balls and his cock both, standing it straight up before putting my mouth around it again, taking it deeper, pushing my tongue against the underside and pushing it around the slick head while my lips slowly enveloped him. I pulled his foreskin back and lapped up the whole of it, hot and swollen. I ran my other hand over his pubes and invaded his shirt, felt him up. He didn't stop me, in fact moaned louder, said “yeah” once between exhalations. His stomach was heaving as I ate his cock. Both hands were on his hips now, his belly, touching himself while he watched me work. He wouldn't meet my eyes, though.
I kept his cock in my mouth, bent and throbbing, and unbuttoned his shirt a little, exposing his stomach. It was broad and stretched, with a trail of brown hair curving from the naval to the base of his pubes, hairless otherwise. He didn’t protest. I undid the rest of it, pulled it around his barrel chest, exposed the entirety of his torso. His stomach may have been soft and smooth, but his pecks were banging. They were broad, flexed, built, graced with a sizable triangle of light fur between two pink nipples. I ran my fingers over them, found them hard as diamonds. He watched my hands, shivering under them, not knowing what to think of this. “You like that?” I asked, barely understandable with his thick cock in my mouth. He just nodded mutely.
I kept one hand on his stomach, fingered his naval, while the other held his thick cock still. I lowered my lips, opened my throat, and took him in completely. I could feel his precum sliding down my throat. He moaned, pumped his hips. I looked up at him and he met my eyes. He looked worried in his lust, brow furrowed, mouth whimpering with a slight frown, like someone was yelling at him for being bad. His hands were on my head, running over the shaved dome of it as I devoured his cock. His fingers worked their way down and felt my neck, my shoulders, ran over my firm biceps and forearms more than once. He was enjoying it.
I left it to bob freely in the open air and leaned back on my knees. I lifted my shirt over my head, stretched my lean torso as I did. I could feel his eyes on me as I tossed the shirt away, putting on a show. I keep myself in shape, as pale as I might be. Thin and athletic, sinewy pecks and narrow, muscular hips, with light trail of black hair from my collar bone down to my cock, the same hair that gathered lightly at my small red nipples.
He watched me intently as I lowered my face to his cock again, the hair of my chest brushing against his exposed ass. His hands were on me immediately, exploring my tight shoulders and back, spreading his legs even further and sitting up slightly to get more of my skin in his reach. His cock was a pulsing rod hitting the back of my throat, baptizing it with precum. He was loving this.
I tweaked his nipple with one hand, and he gasped. The other reached beneath his balls, below his taint, where his glorious slabs of firm ass hid something of great interest to me. I found it, hot and heaving and even a little loose – but it clenched, along with his entire body, as my finger poked at it.
I pulled the finger away immediately. “Sorry,” I said, stroking him slowly.
“It's cool.” His breathing quickened as I tweaked his other nibble. God, he was nice looking. “It's just...no.”
“Not a problem." He was still feeling me shoulders, my back. I grinned. I put the head of his cock in my mouth, reached behind me, and pulled my shorts down. I felt cold air hit my ass and thighs, and I kicked my shoes off, then my shorts and then my boxers, until the only thing I still had on were my socks. All without letting his cock fall out of my mouth, keeping him hot for it, keeping him going. I arched my back and went to it with gusto, hands rolling over his thighs and the small of his back, giving him a fine view of my muscular ass as it perked in the air, the highest point of me. I may have been a little older than him, may have been balding with a shaved head, but he watch my body move like I was some horny teenaged stripper.
“You can touch it if you want,” I said between slurping sucks. “I'm real clean.” He leaned over me, ran his hands up the curve of my back, cupped my ass cheeks awkwardly like some kid who'd just discovered masturbating. I flexed them and his hands clamped down hard, spreading them, brushing my exposed hole with his fingertips. My hanging cock was dripping stickiness onto the floor of the van, balls drooping low. He even pressed his hand into my taint, ran it up and down. This was good. Very good.
I pushed him away, leaned back on my knees, arms trailing over his luscious thighs. I pulled out the lube I had hidden earlier, squirted it into my hand, and pushed it up inside of me, flexing my torso for him as my arms stretched behind my back. He watched, panting, cock as hard as mine, each rubbing the underside of the other, mixing our wetness.
I didn't ask, and he didn't say no. I climbed over his thighs and straddled him. His hands were lifted on either side of him, as if he were afraid to touch me. His eyes were fascinated, eager, curious. I took his cock in one hand and my ass cheek in another, rubbed the head of his dick on my seeping hole. I've taken plenty of cocks in my time, and I lowered myself around it with relative ease, sucked it into me with the practiced muscles of my hole. Still, it had certainly been a while, and he was so damned thick. It stung quite a bit before I managed to relax enough. I hissed through my teeth, eyes closed, grunting as he filled me up. I felt his hand at my hip, running over my stretched stomach, tentative, exploratory. I groaned and pushed my ass into his lap, taking his entire cock. His pubes tickled my taint.
“Wow,” he muttered, holding my hips, elbows at my knees. I began to fuck myself on his cock. “Wow, oh man, wow...”
I leaned forward and grabbed his pecks as I slowly, deliberately milked his dick. It felt amazing, I won't lie - and not just the delicious tightness of his manhood throbbing through my bowels. I felt like a kid again, hitting up tricks for cash in a city very far away. I'd taken all sorts of cocks in those hungry days, begrudgingly at first, then loving it, figuring out what spots to hit, how to stay loose and limber. Figuring out that being wanted this deeply was something to be relished.
But this time it was different. This guy was younger than I was, and he was gorgeous, and he wasn't paying me a cent. I wasn't being held down in some old man's limo. I was in control. I was fucking him.
He moaned, a desperate sound, raw lust. His hands had moved to my ass, gripping it tight, spreading it while I fucked him. I held his knees as his hips started pumping into me, let him take control of the rhythm for a while. He grunted and moaned, eyes rolling over my body and back in his head, loving every thrust he took. His hands ran up my flanks and cupped my pecks, grabbed them like they were tits, thumbing my nipples. I was impressed, and appreciative. I groaned happily, kept myself as tight as I dared, and I could feel his dick loving it.
I leaned back, pushed his gyrating hips into the blankets, and began to fuck him again with my hands planted behind me, my entire body burning and flexing with effort. My hard cock bobbed and jerked between his hands, which were firmly planted on either side of my dark pubic hair. My cock wasn't as thick as his but it was certainly longer, a sight to behold if I do say so. His eyes watch it bounce around, and he grunted, licked his lips. I milked him steadily with my ass, kept his cock hitting my sweet spot, moaning unabashedly as I used him like a toy.
Surprisingly, his hands closed around my slick cock. He was suddenly jerking me off in time with my fucking, considerate and clumsy, but effective nonetheless. Before long I spurted despite myself, groaning stormily and showering myself with ropes hot cum that reached my chest. I kept pumping him, and he stayed hard and supplicant with my spent cock in his hand – but he wasn't close to spurting himself. I could tell. Probably too coy to unleash with a stranger. More likely he was thinking too much about cumming in front of another man.
I kept him locked inside me and grabbed his neck, pulling him up and forward. I let him slide out as I got on all fours and draped myself across the footlocker, knees apart. It gave him a nice view of my arched back and my sweaty, open ass. I knew it looked good, a thin strip of wet dark hair around a gaping, pink hole. “Put it in,” I ordered. “Fuck me.”
I felt it nudge at the edge of the pucker, unsure. I reached behind me, took up two handfulls of his wide, firm ass, and pulled is hard cock into me, eating him alive. He grunted and grabbed my hips, and pulled me to him, rammed it in to the hilt with a wet sound. It felt so nice to be filled again. “Good boy.” He began to pump into me, slowly, still too considerate. I glared at him over my shoulder, pumped my ass back at him. “Fuck me, you bitch. Fuck me like your wife.” His breathing became harder, grasp firmer. He slammed into me once, twice, and then he was going. I grabbed the seats in front of me, biting my lip, grunting, then crying out low in my throat like some bitch in heat. I hadn't been fucked like this since I was sixteen. He was really using me. My cock was hard again, slapping my stomach with each crazed stab he gave me.
He slapped my ass, more confident than he'd been all night. “You like that?” he barked, lost in his lust. I just moaned louder, low and rumbling, and he fucked harder, faster, until his grunts became a long, throaty wail, almost feminine. I felt his dick swell, and my ass was abruptly filled with a monster load of hot cum. It seeped out of me, spilled over my thighs.
He stayed in me for a moment, sighing, hands resting on the small of my back. Then he pulled out. I could feel his load dripping onto my balls. I looked back at him. He was already putting on his shirt. He wasn't looking at me when I handed him his boxers and jeans, not that I minded. It was understandable. Common.
“Can I...have my glasses?” he asked, barely meeting my eyes.
“Sure.” He put them on, looking at me with eyes in focus. I leaned against the driver's seat, feeling glorious, one leg up with the other outstretched, hard cock resting on my thigh. He glanced at it. “Oh, don't worry about that. I'll take care of it.” I smirked at him, and he mumbled something about needing to get home. I put on my shirt and boxers and opened the door for him. He jumped out and walked briskly to his car, not saying a word. A bit rude, but again, a common reaction. I'd seen it before, and I wasn't taking it personally. Besides, I knew this wouldn't be the last time I saw him, whatever he might think.
I took a picture of his license plate with my phone as his car pulled away. It went into a folder full of other bits of his life that I'd sent to myself with his phone earlier in the day, while I'd waited for him to show up. Phone numbers, emails, pictures of his wife at a Christmas party, pictures of his erect cock, pictures of some chick named Tammy flashing her snatch, entire texted conversations between he and Tammy, dirty and explicit and secret.
Last edited by Discostew; February 12th, 2015 at 11:39 AM.
February 12th, 2015, 10:22 PM
Re: The Night Owl
Wow! That was quite erotic and extremely sensual. Another initiated into the other side of life. Thanks for sharing, Discostew.
February 13th, 2015, 10:05 AM
Re: The Night Owl
I like your writing and I'm interested in the guy who drove away ... I'd like to hear more about his motivations.
February 18th, 2015, 11:32 AM
Re: The Night Owl
Thanks! I'm enjoying myself with these two. I usually don't write erotic stuff, so it's fun to explore.
This post is a bit long, but oh well.
I followed him at a measured pace, with professional tact. I knew this game well, had done it countless times before, for jobs, for pleasure. I felt more than a little bit exhilarated, of course. I'd followed guys for personal reasons before, to fuck with them, to fuck them. But never like this. I knew this one was different. For one, I had a whole leg up on him, what with all the sensitive information I had locked in my phone. For two...well, I might have been developing a thing for him. I hadn't put another guy's cock in my ass for years - and that was usually only after I'd fucked him silly, a sort of consolation prize that barely mattered. This one I had to pursue. This one I had to fuck, at least as hard as he'd fucked me. I was still a man, wasn't I? And it wasn't just that. He was so awkward, so repressed...I knew there was more to him than the bumbling, married closet case he presented to the world. I'd dig it out of him, expose it to the air. One way or another.
He lived just outside of the city, in a sprawling, disjointed stretch of old suburbs. His house was a cute little thing with a chain-link fence, neat and clean on a corner, blue with a white roof across the street from a little park. The windows were dark. I watched him park under an overhang and shuffle slowly up to the side door, hesitate for a moment, and then enter slowly, sneakily. A light went on, then darkened some time later. I imagined him showering, washing my sweat off of him, mind running in overdrive, thinking about what he would tell his wife, what fucking a guy said about him, whether or not he was a faggot now.
I pulled my cock out. It was still hard, had remained so the entire drive over. I thought about his large, fuzzy bubble butt. I imagined him tied up and sitting on my cock, grunting and screaming as I ravaged his virgin hole with his own body weight. I came quickly, flecks of it hitting the windshield.
I called him a couple nights later, the first night of the weekend. I was in my van, idling in the lot of the park across the street from his house, watching his windows with the binoculars I keep in my footlocker. He had guests over, another young couple, and the windows were open and well lit, as they should be in this nice neighborhood. He was sitting on the couch, wearing shorts and a blue collared shirt, as well as those damned moccasins. His wife - a pretty, birdlike creature with short blond hair - sat on the arm of the couch next to him, her hand on his forearm, laughing at all the jokes he made. I could imagine his confusion as he looked at the screen of his vibrating phone. I'd entered my number into his address book, under the name "Buddy." He answered after a few rings, unsure, but friendly. "Hello...?"
"Hey there, stud."
There was moment of silence. "Who is this?"
"I think you know."
He apologized to his guests, and I heard a door shut. I watched his wife sit where he'd just been, raising her eyebrows and looking sour, taking a huge swig of her drink. "What the fuck, man?" he hissed. "How'd you get this number?"
"Think about it, Ben. That's your name, isn't it? I had your phone for hours. You really should have thought up a better password than '1111.'"
I could feel his anger burning through the phone. "Listen, asshole. 'No strings attached,' you said, and that's a direct quote. It was a one time thing, and that's that. Call me again, I call the cops. Capisce?"
"I'd love to know what your wife would think about all this," I blurted out quickly, before he could hang up.
Another static silence. "You wouldn't."
I smiled. This was so textbook. "I definitely would. I've got her number too, you know. I wouldn't tell her about me, of course - it just be my word against yours, as disruptive as that might be. No...I think I'll tell her about Tammy. I'll send her all those interesting pictures you have on your phone. Even some screenshots of those nasty texts you kept."
I could hear him breathing sharply, practically hyperventilating. "That's over. That's not fair! You can't do that!"
"Over, huh? I guess you still have all these images saved because you like to think about ol' Tammy while you touch yourself. That's just morally repugnant, Ben. And besides, over or not...would it even matter?"
His said something quiet and unintelligible.
"What was that?"
"What do you want?" God, this was great. His ego had deflated, his voice was wavering. I had him.
"I want you to tell your wife you have to go into work tonight, some emergency. What was it you did? Graphic design firm? All sorts of last minute deadlines popping up out of nowhere. You can figure it out. You won't be back until late, maybe morning. Think you can manage that?"
"Good. Then, I want you to take a shit - the bigger the better."
"What the f - "
"Shut up. After that I want you to take a shower, get yourself clean. Very clean, if you know what I mean. Inside and out. Understand?"
"This is so fucked up..."
"Tell me you understand."
I heard him gulp. "I do."
"Good. Then I want you to get in your car, drive down to Milton Street - two blocks away. You know it?"
"Good. Park your car there. I'll pick you up. See you in a bit, sweet cheeks." I hung up the phone and put the binoculars up to my face. I watched him appear from the bedroom. He looked a little pale, but he grinned broadly to his guests, sat beside his wife, and whispered into her ear. She grimaced, said something foul about his employers, and nodded her head. He apologized profusely, his guests waved their hands, no worries, and he excused himself to the bathroom. Excellent.
I drove down Milton Street about forty minutes later, pulled up beside his parked green sedan. I opened the door for him and he lumbered in, slammed it shut. "I can't fucking believe you're doing this," he barked, clenching his fists. "I could have you arrested, you know that? You're a sick fucking fuck, you know that?" His glasses glinted off the streetlights, adding a fierce flair to his words.
I laughed and pulled away. "Not too original, Ben. But I get it." I reached behind me and pulled out a small flask. It was filled with whiskey. I handed it to him. "Here. To take the edge off."
He took it, glaring at me, probably wanting to beat the shit out of me. That was fine. He wouldn't. I let him take a few swigs in silence.
"So," I said eventually. "You and this Tammy chick. How'd you two kids get together, hmm?"
I laughed. "Hey, just making conversation. We'll be driving for a while, you know." We were leaving the city, the rolling landscape around us growing more and more rural.
He took another sip, grimaced at the sting. "She was a client at my firm."
I waited patiently. "And?"
He gave an exasperated sigh. "She made it clear from the first minute we were alone together that she wanted my dick. She kept coming onto me every time we'd have a one-on-one about her project. I guess I just gave in. She was too hot - and she was crazy in the sack. She did things..." He snickered. "Guess you wouldn't understand."
"Please. I understand plenty. She was pushy, and you're a pushover. She got was she wanted, and you got fucked. Doesn't seem that much different from our relationship."
This fired him up. "We don't have a 'relationship,' psycho."
"Oh, don't worry." I patted his leg, and he stiffened in his seat. "It's not like we're gonna elope or anything. I want something from you, and you're giving it to me - whatever your reasons. That's a relationship. That's what we've got going on."
We were driving through moonlight fields now, a two-lane road enclosed by tall fences, punctuated by distant ranch houses every few miles. I turned off onto a long, shadowy dirt road under a canopy of tall trees, filling the van with low rumbles and crunching. He looked nervous, very nervous, sucking on the whiskey like a pacifier. "Where are we going?" he asked meekly.
I ignored him. "Did your little fling make you feel guilty?"
He was more than a little bit tipsy by now, talking with his hands. "None of your fucking business, asshole. I'm not gonna sit here and spill my guts for you. Tell me what you want."
I smiled, watching the road. "What I want is for you to tell me if cheating on your wife made you feel guilty. Is that why you broke it off with Tammy?"
He growled, exasperated. "Yeah, it made me feel guilty. I ended it with Tammy because I felt guilty. And I - it went on for too long. I had to end it, or she would've caught on for sure."
I nodded. "Yeah, sounds about right. You'd just as soon pretend it never happened, let her live a lie, just like you're doing. Is that why you came back to see me earlier this week? Just a one-time fuck, no strings? Easy to forget about?" I looked right at him. He squirmed, not meeting my eye. "Does your wife even do it for you? Sexually, I mean? Is that why you were so damned willing to have a guy suck your cock? Is that why you came buckets when you fucked me? When was the last time you came in her?" Man, I was being mean - but it was just so much fun.
He slammed the flask into the dashboard, splashing a bit of whiskey on the windshield and on his shirt. "Shut. The fuck. Up."
I shrugged and turned off the dirt road. I pulled to a stop, headlights illuminating a wide metal gate and the fenced property beyond. I got out of the van and unlocked gate, pushed it open with a dull creaking. He was still tense and drunk and pissed off when I got back in, glaring out the window. No matter. I drove us onto the empty property. Beyond the trees that hugged the fence was an open field and acres of shadowy land on the far side of a rising hill. On the hill was a dark house, large and empty. Not far from it was a barn, just as dark, just as empty. I pulled up beside it and parked, turned the van off. "We're here," I said cheerfully. He grunted angrily and got out of the car.
I followed, watched him stumble slightly as he took in the view, kicked the side of the barn lightly. "This where you live?" he asked, looking up at the house, perhaps a bit impressed.
"No," I answered. "Just a place." I went about unlocking the tall barn doors, and I could feel his presence behind me. He was radiating heat, and he smelled of whiskey and sweat. It was not a bad odor at all. I pushed open the doors and pulled a dangling chain to the right of them. Dim orange florescents flickered to life along the ceiling - only three of them, and they weren't very strong. Rows of empty horse stalls ran left and right, and in the center, at the other end of the barn, as a sturdy, slanting step ladder. It led up to a loft about twenty feet above us, supported by four great wooden beams, most of it hidden from view.
"We're not going up there, are we?" he asked unsteadily.
"Yep, we sure are." I looked him over. He was visibly shaken by the prospect, swaying on his feet, the flask dangling from loose fingers. I took it from him. "Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have let you get that drunk before we got up there." I squeezed his shoulder, but he didn't notice. "You go up first. I'll spot you. OK?"
"I don't like heights...I don't know..."
I put my hand on his face, and he flinched. "You can do it. I'll spot you."
The fire jumped back into his eyes, and he jerked away from me. "Fuck you. I'm fine." With that he lumbered up to the ladder and began to climb. I followed cautiously, not sure what I'd do if he fell. After all, he was considerably more bulky than I was.
He slowed somewhat as he approached the middle of the ladder, then paused. He was shaking hard enough to set the ladder trembling. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed himself up the rest of the way, faster than might have been safe. His moccasins disappeared over the edge of the loft. I followed in short order.
The loft was flat and sparse, most of it (apart from the furthest corners) very well-lit this close to the dangling lights. There was a card table with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on it, the same brand that Ben had been sucking on from the flask. The table was flanked by two old armchairs. A few feet away a mattress lay on the floor, the head of it resting against one of the thick wooden beams near the edge of the loft. It was covered with an old patchwork quilt, and a huge, firm body pillow lay across it horizontally.
"See? Nothing to worry about." I went to the table and poured myself a shot, threw it back. I felt his big hand at my waist. It lifted my shirt, fingers raking across my stomach, grabbing a handfull of me. He was behind me, drunk as a skunk. His hot crotch was pushing into my hip.
"Is this what you want, you sick faggot?" he asked, breath full of booze. "Brought me all the way up here just to get fucked on a dirty mattress? You could've rented a hotel room. Saved some time. Don't know why my cock's so fucking special."
Ha. This was funny. He thought he'd remain a proud stallion despite the humbling nature of his situation, thought I was nothing more than a hungry power bottom.
I knocked his hand away, though I do admit I was hard already. I turned and grabbed him by the cheeks, made him look at me. He was drunk and pumped with adrenaline from the climb. He'd have to be managed directly. "Ben. You don't do shit without asking me first, and when I do ask, it's pretty much an order. Got it? Don't touch me again."
For a moment he looked like a scolded puppy. Then the anger returned, and he shook his face from my grasp. "Fine, whatever. Fuck you then. Thought I'd at least have some fun with it."
I grabbed the collar of his shirt in my fist, pulled him close. He seemed to shrink, despite the fact that he was looking down at me. "Let's get one thing straight, Benjamin. You'll do anything I want tonight. Anything. If you don't, your wife will know everything by sunup." I let his shirt free. "And don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." Not much, anyway. "And, in the morning, you'll be free to go. Understand?"
He nodded, chastened. He took off his glasses, which had fogged over, and cleaned them with the bottom of his shirt. His naval was exposed, asking for it. I wanted so badly to tell him why I'd taken him to this barn, out in the middle of nowhere. It was quiet here, empty, not a soul for miles. I fully intended to pull sounds out of this man that would wake an entire apartment complex, but out here we could be as loud as we liked.
I crossed the creaky loft. I sat on the nearest armchair, one leg draped over the arm, one hand at my chin. He started towards the other chair. "No no, you stand there. Yeah, right there, face me. And keep drinking."
He grumbled something obscene and unscrewed the flask, drank deeply.
I poured myself another shot and took it, enjoying the warmth as I loosened up, cemented my confidence. "So you said Tammy was a freak in bed." I rubbed my crotch, let him see it. "Tell me about it."
He was swaying again, red-faced and smirking, remembering. "Yeah, she was. Oh man." He laughed. "She was all about edging me - you know, jacking me off until I was about to shoot, then stopping. Drove me fucking wild. She liked to be on top when we fucked, liked to...be in charge. Kept reminding me that I worked for her." He drank again. "There were plenty of times she'd beg me to hold her down and fuck her, pretend I was raping her, and I would - oh man, I would. She was so...fucking..."
I gestured at him. "Strip."
His eyes cleared a bit as he was brought back to the present. His mouth fell open a hair. "Huh?"
"You heard me. Strip. May as well get things going, right?"
He glanced toward the roof, probably very self-conscious about the unflattering fluorescent bulb that burned above us, bathing everything in a dull, unforgiving yellow light. I didn't care. I wanted to look at every bit of him, and I would.
I was just preparing to threaten him again when he took off his glasses, looked around, laid them on the card table. I enjoyed how losing his glasses transformed him, evening out his handsome face while making him just a little less sure of the world. He took up his position in front of me, staring at the floor, blushing pink through his beard. How I loved that blush. He lifted his shirt above his head, exposing his thick trunk in all its stretched glory, strong and built, but soft and curvy where I liked it. He tossed the shirt on the floor, angry or excited, I couldn't tell. His shoulders were the broadest part of him, as well-muscled as his chest and arms. His shorts hugged his hips low, letting the curve of his succulent belly rest in its natural state, his perfect naval imminently lickable above his light brown treasure trail, which curved down into his waistline.
"Everything," I reiterated. He glared at me and stepped out of his shoes, pushed his shorts down around his knees with his boxers as indignantly as he could, and stepped out of those as well. He was a grand sight under that warm yellow light, this robust, luscious, blushing man. He was back to avoiding my gaze again. I followed the curving lines of his body down to his cock. It was half hard, though his balls were full and low in the warm air. He could feel my eyes on him. His hands instinctively covered his stomach, the top of his cock - which was growing as I watched. He liked being looked at, liked being admired, even in a situation like this. That said something.
"You don't have to do that. Take your hands away. Let me see." He did, putting them at his sides in fists. I leaned forward, hands clasped in front of me, ravaging him openly with my eyes. His cock was almost fully erect now, the pink head peeking out of the foreskin.
I couldn't wait. I got up and crossed over to him, loving the way he flinched as I approached. I put my hand on his stomach and felt him up. I massaged the firm mounds of his chest, thumbing his nipples. He sighed. I stepped behind him, ran my hands over his broad back, around the front of his waist, embracing him in an intimate way, like a lover. It felt naughty, knowing it was largely against his will. He was so big, so sexy. He was breathing heavily, flinching as my hands explored his stomach, thumbed his naval. I put my chin on his neck, nibbled at his ear. He grunted, and I ran my hand lower, closed my fingers around his thick cock, now fully erect. "You like getting touched." I nibbled his shoulder, his neck. It wasn't a question.
"See that mattress over there?" I snarled into his ear. He did. "I want you to go over there and get on your belly, and make sure that body pillow is under your hips." I smacked his ass with my open hand, and he jerked violently the sharp sound and sting of it washed over him. "I want this thing in the air. Got it?"
"Fuck man, what are you gonna do...?"
"Anything I want." I squeezed his ass. "And nothing you won't like, I promise you that."
"What are...you gonna fuck me?" His voice was quiet now, the last bits of bravado leaking out of him. It was as if he were bound and helpless, rather than nearly twice my size and free to do whatever he wished. It was the fact that he was naked and I wasn't, and - of course - the fact that he knew, even as drunk as he was, that he was truly and thoroughly blackmailed.
"Just do it."
He nodded numbly and did as I said. I watched him bend over, watched his broad cheeks spread as he laid himself out, exposing a beautiful pink pucker trimmed with golden brown hair. He crawled over the mattress and positioned himself like I'd told him to, draped over the pillow. It put his curvy ass in the air, open and exposed above his arched feet. His ample back curved nicely, delicious contours of thick muscle, shoulders bulging as he supported his upper half with his elbows, looking over his shoulder, dripping with fear and anticipation.
I went to him, kicking off my shoes. I stood over him, enjoying the moment. I fished a pair of handcuffs out of my pocket. His back tensed as they jingled metallically. "What's that?" he asked, straining to see.
I put my foot on his back, kept him there. "Just something to make things a little more fun. See that post in front of you? Put your arms around it."
"I'm not gonna let you - "
"You'll do it. 'Anything I want,' remember?" I ran my toe up his spine, making him shiver. "Don't worry. You'll be out of them by morning."
He put his arms around the post compliantly, clasping his fingers together, face buried between his shoulders. I circled around the mattress and locked the cuffs around his wrists. "Just a little something to make sure you don't get cold feet." His face was bewildered, scared and pale. I patted his arm, massaged the tense muscle there. His shoulders began to shake. A muffled sob escaped - and then he was outright crying, quietly weeping, drunk and bound, completely at my mercy. I didn't think my cock could get any harder, but it did.
I circled back around to his rear, peeling off my shirt. A moment later I was fully naked, marveling at the size of my own cock - nine inches and dripping. He lay trembling below me, toes curled, sniffling into his meaty bicep. I lowered myself to the edge of the mattress, grabbed his round calves, and pulled his legs apart. He complied obediently. I ran my hands up the back of his thighs and I was finally, happily gripping his amazing butt cheeks in each hand, far too much of them to grasp completely. They were slightly fuzzy, quite warm to the touch. They were large and well-formed, muscly slabs of meat covered in a considerate layer of fat, the perfect balance of soft and firm, squeezable and lusty. I squeezed them hard, golden flesh pushing between my fingers, quickly reddening. He bucked against it, and I pulled them apart. There it was, only inches from my mouth. A pink, puckering virgin hole, twitching in on itself as he strained, enclosed by soft brown hairs matted with his sweat. Below was his fuzzy taint, swollen and tantalizing. Below that hung his sizable pink balls, sack jiggling as I manhandled his ass. The whole buffet stank of sweat and musk and vaguely of soap.
I pulled his legs back, lifted his hips even higher. "Bottoms up," I said, laughing at my own joke. He stiffened as I tongued his taint, relishing its sweet bulge, pushing into it, making it wet. I worked my tongue upward and wove a slick trail across his ass cheek, still red from my intense squeezing. I bit it lightly, sucked in a mound of flesh, made him jerk and squirm. I put my face right in the middle of his cheeks, where his intimate flesh emitted a delicious heat fraught with man-scent. I sniffed deeply before running my tongue around the rim of his tight hole, soft hair and softer flesh, tasting him as if he were a fine wine. I ran my hands over the mounds of his ass, up his taut flanks and back again, pulled his cheeks apart. I could hear him moaning into the mattress - muffled, but there. I pushed my tongue into the center of his hole, spit on it, and began to lap at it hungrily. I used the entire breadth of my hot tongue, up and down, like a dog. With each lick I pushed a bit harder into his pucker, teasing it open. It was working, albeit slowly. I could feel him loosening up the wetter I made him.
He was grunting through clenched teeth, grasping the beam, back arced nicely. "God damn it," he whispered more than once, angry with himself for loving every minute of it. He gasped when I fully focused on the center of his chute, pushing my slick tongue into the middle his clenching sphincter, dousing it with spit and washing it with my hot breath. Eventually he gave in to the pleasure of it, opened wide with a moan. My grip on his ass cheeks tightened, widened, and I started tongue-fucking him, spitting, licking, then tongue-fucking again. Each exhalation he made was a soft, desperate moan, and his body quivered in my hands.
I don't know how long I spent down there with my face planted deep in his lush ass, but by the time I pulled back I could tell it was time well spent. His hole was glistening and red, leaking spit, twitching in time with his heavy breathing - but open, looser than it had ever been in his life, I bet.
I reached under his hanging balls and found a cock hard and throbbing. I pulled it backward and pushed his pelvis down into the pillow, pinning his cock behind him, splayed out like a beached whale below his defenseless ass. His balls were caught between his cock and his taint, bulging as they fell to either side of his leaking shaft. He groaned as I folded him in this new way, looking over his shoulder with a red face, blue eyes still wet with tears. I ignored his face, looked only at his lower half. It was a fantastic view of supplicant manhood, a wet, open ass lording over an engorged cock - a dick on its back, a submissive shaft that was leaking precum all over the mattress.
I lowered my lips to the underside of his cock, his glistening glans. I licked it, tongued it, tasted his precum. I made my way up, sucked on his nuts, rolling them around in my mouth while he gasped and groaned. Up his taint, then into his ass again. It opened freely, and I almost forgot this was a virgin hole I was tonguing. He was loving it, or at least his body was. He might not have known it then, but he was a natural.
I held his ass in place and stuck one spit-slicked finger into him, and he swallowed it up before realizing what it was. He grunted, almost a complaint, but relaxed again. After all, it was only one finger. I felt around his velvet bowels, impossibly hot, tighter than I'd imagined. He was breathing quicker, head hidden behind strained shoulders. I removed my digit from him, left him empty for just a moment as I pulled my discarded jeans across the floor and fished the lube out of the pocket. I poured an ample amount directly onto his hole, and the entire landscape between his ass cheeks seemed to pucker at its coldness. I coated my finger with it and pushed it into him without ritual. Ah, yes - much easier now, even with the reflexive clenching. He tensed up when I added another finger, stretching him out just slightly. He really lit up when I added a third.
"Hey - hey man, that stings. That - " He tried to pull himself away as I pushed deeper, fucked him with my fingers. "That fucking stings, man!" He was shouting now. He had his arms wrapped around the beam, chest pushed against it, trying in vain to escape my plundering fingers. His cheek was flat against the wood, and the pained grimace on his flushed face only made him all the more attractive to me. I just wrapped my arm around his waist and held him there, his cock, softening slightly, caught between my forearm and his stomach.
"What do you expect?" I plowed him deeper, up to my knuckles, and he shrieked, called me names. He had tightened up again, but the lube made the job easy despite his misgivings. "You've never had anything up in you before, and now you're getting stretched out." I kissed his clenched ass cheek. "Totally normal. Now - relax. You'll like this next part."
I pulled his body back down the mattress until it was draped over the pillow again, ass perked. He was done protesting for now, watching me wearily over his shoulder like I was a stalking wolf. My fingers were still stuffed in him up to the second joint, held in place by a clenching, inflamed ring of red sphincter. I held them there, firm and undeniable, until I felt his chute began to relax again. His breath was even and measured. He was actually concentrating on getting himself loosened up. Good.
I pushed around the inside of his puckered gutter, down deeper, until I was massaging the base of his cock from inside his ass, brushing his prostate with my fingers.
He cried out ("Fuck!"). His back arched toward the ceiling as he bent himself in half, attempted to escape this new and intense sensation. His ass clenched and unclenched around my hand, unsure of what it wanted. I held him firm, kept kneading. His thighs were trembling, toes stretching. I listened to his breath grow more ragged and vocal with every stroke of my fingers, each exhalation punctuated by a low grunt. His cock hung below his balls, hard and heavy. "How's that?" I asked him.
"Ugnh - fuck - ughhh, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..."
I pulled my fingers out and hooked one on the rim of his sphincter, pulled it over and out, opening his ass. God, it was pretty. If it weren't dripping with lube I'd have eaten it out all over again. I hooked my other index finger into it, pulled it apart slowly - so, so slowly. "Hhhha-ha!" he hissed, hugging the beam like his life depended on it. I kept stretching, slow and steady, until his hole was gaping wide and pulsing between my bent knuckles. I held it there for a couple moments, watched it unravel on its own, giving into the pressure.
"That's good. You're ready." I didn't give him any time to debate the matter. I pushed my knees under his thighs and spread them apart as I nudged the head of my stiff cock against his ass crack. My body was buzzing with lust. It was everything I could do not to plunge into him immediately, dry and unprepared, rape his unyielding hole like a dog would mount a mewling bitch. I could hear his cries of pain and rage in my head, and they excited me.
But no - that wouldn't do at all. I wanted him to enjoy this. I wanted his thoughts to reel as he did, wanted him to crave every inch of my cock. I wanted him to go home to his wife and be devastated that she could never do what my cock could, never fill him up and make him lose his mind.
I rubbed the underside of my cock across his slick chute, pushed his fantastic ass cheeks around it, over it, enveloping the middle of my shaft in his ass flesh as I dry humped him. It created a fleshy friction that excited me to my core. His body was stiff as I teased him, head bowed. "Just do it, man." he groaned. "Just fucking do it, if your gonna do it." Oh, that was golden.
"Sure thing." I squirted a generous amount of lube onto my long shaft, doubled up at the head. I pushed another load of it into his ass before nudging the edge of his hole with my cock. It tightened a little, but remained loose enough. I pulled his butt cheek away from his hole and guided my cock with the other - then bullied half of my cock into his tight, lubed up ass without warning.
It clenched around my invading shaft deliciously as he reared to his knees, bellowing in surprise and pain. This movement only served to impale himself further on my cock. The handcuffs clinked as he bucked against the beam, a vision of conquest. "Fuck!" he screamed. "Fuck!"
I held his hips firmly, somehow kept myself from stabbing into that hot, wet, velvety mess between his ass cheeks with abandon. "Relax, man. You'll feel so fucking good if you just relax."
He cried, whimpered, even begged. He couldn't have known how much that turned me on. "I can't do it, man, it's too big! Get it out! Please!"
I stroked his ass, ran my thumbs firmly across those rounded plains, leaving red trails on his skin that quickly faded. "I could do that, I could. But, if I do, your wife will have an inbox full of Tammy before you're out of those handcuffs. Is that what you want?"
He was close to tears again. "No don't do it!" His voice was panicked, desperate. "OK, OK - all right." He settled down, sank back to the mattress. His hole was so tight, so hot, red and throbbing with half my cock sticking out of it. He took a deep breath, exhaled deeply. As he did, his hole loosened significantly around my cock. "All right. I'm sorry. Just...fucking warn me next time."
Next time. I liked the sound of that. I squeezed his ass. "Consider this a warning, then." I rammed the rest of my cock into him, smashing my dark pubes against his quivering cheeks. He wailed in pain, hugged the beam and cussed me out, bucking against my hips as I split open his virgin hole with my cock. His ass was the tightest I'd ever been in, throbbing around my shaft, ablaze and dominated. Sweat glistened across his broad form, dripping down the length of his spine between cords of taut muscle. His body quivered around my cock and under my hands as I held him down, stayed perfectly still while he writhed and whimpered under me. I gave him time, let him get used to the sensation. In the back of my head I was celebrating, finally inside of this gorgeous man after a week of imagining this very moment. It was everything I hoped it would be, and more. I recorded every twitch his insides made as my cock stretched him out, every gasp, every complaint, every pleading whine. There would only be one first time, only one deflowering. I meant to remember every aspect of it.
I ran my hands up his back and massaged his shoulders, barely managing to work out the intense knots I found there. I enjoyed the sounds of his mewling groans, knowing his insides must be on fire, hoping my massage would draw attention from it. I pushed his shoulders down into the mattress, bringing his ass up in a more accessible position. He groaned and heaved, attacked by many sensations at once. I had hooked my feet around his ankles, and my knees were pushing his thighs apart. My sex was rock hard, burning a hole into his guts. He must have understood by then that it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.
I pulled out slowly, bit by bit. He gasped at the sensation, puckered a little, milking me despite himself. I was halfway out before I pushed in again, steady and indisputable. He whined at first - "Fuck, it hurts man, fuck man..." - then loosened as I impaled him completely once more. This dance was repeated a few more times before he began to get the hang of it, his complaints melting into low grunts of what might have been grudging acceptance, or even pleasure.
I picked up the pace slightly, grunting myself, gripping his lower back. As I pushed into him again I heard a throaty moan. I reached below his bent hips and found his cock hard and throbbing, hot between his moist crotch and the sweaty body pillow. I freed it, pulled it out behind him to flop on the mattress beneath my ass, such a fine juxtaposition of our roles earlier in the week. I reached behind my balls and stroked the underside of his shaft as I slowly fucked his constricting, lubricious ass. He was practically purring now. "Still hurt?" I asked.
"Just - unnghh, a bit, yeah, you're fucking huge man, you fuck, you fuck..."
I began to pick up the pace, loving every inch of hot pleasure his tight ass was squeezing out of my cock. "Yeah? What else does it feel like?" I ran my hands up his flexing hips and flanks, rubbed his stretched, hairy pits, making him shutter and jerk. He even laughed, tickled and breathless, unwittingly milking my shaft with each giggle.
"Feels...STOP, aha, heh....feels good," he breathed.
I put my hands to my nose, sniffed deeply of his pit sweat, licked it from my fingers. "It'll feel even better soon."
I grabbed his leg and flipped him on my cock, turned him on his side. He cried out in alarm, one arm drawn across his chest and neck as his cuffed wrists were pulled against the beam. I straddled his hot, meaty thigh and flung his other leg over my shoulder. His long torso was twisted slightly between my cock and his collar bone, not uncomfortably so. His hips were raised by the body pillow, thrusting them lewdly toward me, almost welcoming. His stomach was stretched and heaving, chest tightened, hard cock and pink sack flopping against his hip. Between them and his gaping hole was his swollen taint, brown hairs matted and dark with the lube that had dripped out of his ass when I'd entered him. He was beautiful.
I held his thigh to my stomach and pushed into his twitching, pliant hole again with only a little resistance and a light hiss from his lips. I wanted to see his face while I fucked him. I wanted him to see what was happening to him. He was blushing so much that the redness had spread to his shoulders, his chest. I began to fuck him again, faster than before. His mouth was open, teeth parted, brow furrowed and low. He was watching my hips pump into him, fascinated and strained, a bit confused by his body's reactions to being used. He was staying loose instinctively now, his ass a slick, muscly fuck hole that easily accommodated my thrusting cock, lubricated by oils and whiskey. "I think you like it," I growled, leaning into him. I ran my hand up and down his stretched stomach and hairy chest for my own pleasure, enjoying the feel of his taut muscles and the exposed length of his vulnerable belly - though he huffed and pumped his hips unconsciously as I did so, lower lip pouting. I grabbed his hard cock and held it tight, fucked him harder, faster. He groaned openly over the smooth hump of his bicep, arms bulging as he grasped the beam behind his head. "Fuck that feels so good," he whimpered in a single, throaty breath.
I left his cock to bob above his naval and leaned forward, pushing his leg up. He moaned through gritted his teeth as I folded him, stretched him out until his knee hovered above his shoulder beside my face. He was a sexy sight, one leg stretched below, the other raised above, cock throbbing against the top of my thigh. "You like that?" I asked. He only groaned, but his face told me everything. This new angle allowed me to plow him deeper, much deeper than before. I began to fuck him as hard as I dared, grunting with the effort. I could feel sweat breaking out across my straining body, mingling with his own, filling the air around us with a musky stench and the wet slapping sound of my hips pounding against his splayed ass. He moaned and cried out between hitched breaths in time with my fucking - not in pain this time, but in ecstasy. He was completely open to my thrusting, and I was hitting something deep inside of his chute - the swollen knob of his prostate that wracked his body with shuttering pulses and sent his voice oozing wordlessly out of his mouth whenever my cock pushed past it. His own cock was red and engorged and leaking precum onto the blanket, my thigh, tossed around with each thrust I gave him.
After some time of this deep fucking, when his desperate blubbering and his throbbing cock told me he couldn't stand it any longer, I pulled out and flipped him back onto his stomach. "Up on your knees," I ordered, punctuating it with a slap on his ass. He complied breathlessly, shimmying up the beam with his arms wrapped around it, muscles straining beneath a sheen of sweat. "God, you're so fucking hot." I kicked the body pillow out of the way and crawled to my feet, cock bobbing. "Now stand up. Lean against the beam with your ass out." He did so, looking back at me over the slope of his shoulder with his blue eyes, making sure I approved. I could definitely get used to this.
I went to him, ran my hands over his hairy thighs, his tight back, his smooth ass. I ran my fingers over it, inside of it. It was loose and used, yet still so velvety tight. It puckered around my fingers as I dug deeper, but only just so. He was already so well-trained. "You're a natural, you know that?" I whispered into his ear. "This ass was made to be plowed." I pulled out my fingers and thumbed his hole while my other digits massaged his taint. He only grunted his consent, panting like a dog.
I rubbed more lube on my cock and held his hips still as I guided it home again. He shivered and moaned as I took him in this new position. I wrapped my arms around his tense midsection as I pushed past his swollen rim without pause, slid in to the hilt with no resistance at all. Soon enough my balls were bumping the back of his. Soon enough I was fucking him as vigorously as before, even more so. My hips were ramming into him full force. There came rhythmic, wet slapping sounds and an occasional fleshy farting noise as my cock pushed trapped pockets of air out of his sloppy ass, as his meaty hole made way for my fucking. I was pushing sharp wails of groaning pleasure out of him with every thrust, each humiliated howl tinged with a hint of pain. His body bucked in my embrace, stomach and chest stretching and heaving against my arms. I stayed wrapped firmly around him while I fucked him standing up, the side of my face pressed against the broad planes of his sweaty back. His heart was beating mightily, reverberating across my face and chest and stomach where my skin pressed into his, steady and frantic and alive. I knew he could feel my own heart beating into his spine, just as fast and just as intimate.
I nibbled his back as my hands roamed down his stomach and enclosed his waist, holding him like a lover again. It felt more appropriate this time, our bodies locked together, sweating and rutting, each moaning in his own distinct world of pleasure. I could feel his hard cock bouncing between my fingers, wobbling up and down with my thrusts. I ran my fingers through his lush pubic hair and gripped his bush like a horse's mane as I reared back and really gave it to him. I fucked him harder than he'd fucked me earlier that week, didn't level out my pace until I heard his cock slapping against his stomach.
This put him out of his mind, turned his low wails into something more akin to gasping screams, no longer in time with my fucking but soaring over it, long and clear and beautiful. I didn't' know in those moments whether the sounds he made were of pain or pleasure or both, and I didn't care. They turned me on, and that was all that mattered. He was all mine, to do with as I pleased. I took my pleasure from his defenseless body, my knuckles white on his bent hips. I drilled him deep, used him like a whore. I was mesmerized by the shifting tenseness of his muscles beneath the glistening skin of his back, his naked body twisting under the dull florescents, the way his helpless ass rippled dramatically as my hips slammed into it again and again and again. Even my own body was turning me on, so tight and sinewy above his prone and curvaceous form, sweat gleaming on my stretched torso as every muscle in me strained to unleash itself on his ravaged hole.
I lasted a good long while before I exploded in his ass, never letting up in my fucking as I shot multiple loads of hot cum deep inside his pulsing cunt. His screams had subsided into high-pitched, gibbering moans by this point. He was hanging off the beam, everything below his shoulders tossed about like a rag doll, arms stretched above his hanging head, body held up by the handcuffs and my hands and my cock more than his own muscles. He accepted my load without complaint. The searing heat of my cum consumed my cock as it washed over it. His ass was so loose and liberated that the hot mess gushed just out of him, sticky between our thighs.
I held him up with one hand and reached around with the other, found his cock still hard, still hot, still dripping, begging to be released. I leaned into him again. "You're gonna cum with my cock inside you." He only panted and groaned, beside himself with naked lust. I was hard again already. I began to stroke him, delicately at first, then quickly, his precum lubricating the way. My cock was fully erect again already, shifting inside of him, making him jerk. Before long he was shivering and quaking. His cock swelled in my hand, and he wailed impotently, an almost womanly sound filtered through his reedy, masculine voice. He came as he did so, hot cum jetting between my fingers to spatter against the wooden beam that held him prisoner. I counted six spurts before it began to soften in my grip, ejecting the last waves of his climax as dribbling spouts that dripped between my knuckles. His tense body finally gave out, and I let him collapse against the beam. My hard cock slid out of him as he fell to the mattress, panting heavily, utterly spent.
I grabbed the keys to the handcuffs and undid his wrists. He sagged as his arms fell to the mattress, and his frame flagging against the beam. I tossed the cuffs aside and took my hard cock in hand, began to stroke it. I put one hand against the beam above his head and leaned over his prone form, jacking myself off without shame, consuming his spent body with my eyes. He was on his knees below me. His back was swelling with his heaving breaths, ass ravaged and loose and leaking above his splayed feet.
"Tell me how that made you feel," I growled.
He didn't answer. He needed to catch his breath.
"Tell me, Benjamin." I put my big toe against his moist, squishy hole, pushed into it. "I'll know if you lie."
He twitched, exhaled. "I've never...I mean..."
I jerked it faster, fingers flashing lightly over the stretched the skin of my cock. I pulled my sticky toe out of him and ran it over the small of his back. "Yeah?"
"...it felt...amazing. I felt...like..."
"Yeah? Tell me about it."
"I didn't know where I was. It hurt, but it felt so good...I fucking loved it..." His words dissolved into a sob, and his back began to shake. "I fucking loved it!" He was crying openly now, the back of his head shaking. His hand disappeared behind his thigh, touching himself. God. He was crying in front of me, a grown man, but he was turned on all the same. Perhaps that's what turned him on again in the first place.
The thought sent me over the edge a second time. I roared under my breath and spurted across his naked back, hot semen mixing with drying sweat as it ran down his spine and between his ass cheeks, mingling with the earlier load in the feverish cradle between.
I bent down and grabbed his shoulders, flipped him over. He leaned limply against the beam, the dripping streaks of his load sticking to his hair. His body was loose and limber, muscles watery from the abuse he'd endured. His cock was indeed hard again, jutting lewdly above his thighs, which bulged as they folded over his calves. His sobs were tapering off, but his face was still red, and tears were pouring out of his soggy blue eyes. I didn't know what thoughts were clouding his head, and I didn't care. I held him down and closed my lips around his cock. He huffed and sniffled as I sucked him off, his cock twitching and throbbing in my warm mouth. I ran a hand up his body, another down his thigh, growling with careless pleasure. I invaded the space beneath his taint one last time and pushed one finger into his spent ass. He devoured it reflexively, moaned impotently as I finger-fucked him. I added a second, then a third - and he burst in my mouth, gushing sweet cum down the back of my throat as his hips pumped lazily. I swallowed every last gush, drew out his orgasm as long as I could with my tongue and my lips and my hands, until he was sucked dry. When he finally began to go soft I let his cock slide out of my mouth, looked up at him. He had his hands over his eyes, but his mouth and his bearded jaw were slack, open and satiated, his fuzzy chest heaving below them in deep, low palpitations that shook his whole body.
I got to my feet and went over to the card table, where I poured myself another shot. I was elated, on top of the world, buzzing with post-coital bliss and the cool steam of drying sweat. I sat on the armchair and faced him. His hands had fallen to his sides, and he was watching me. Not with anger, or resentment, but with open curiosity. He watched my long, limp cock as it shifted between my legs. I kept them open for him as I sipped my whiskey. "Drink?" I asked.
"Yeah. Sure." He sounded like himself again, exhausted and humming. He pulled himself up, cock and balls dangling between his shaky legs. As impressive as his manhood was when erect, he was a grower, not a shower. His length had nearly receded into him by the time he sank into the other chair and took his drink, now dwarfed by his balls.
"Well, that was...something else," I said, watching him.
He only sipped his drink, staring off at nothing. "You had your fun, then?" he asked. "When are you going to take me home?"
"By my reckoning, I wasn't the only one who enjoyed myself."
He made no sign that he heard me, just finished his drink and tossed the glass onto the table. "My head hurts," was all he said.
I got dressed and took him into the house to let him shower off. He stumbled naked across the lawn in his silly moccasins, shameless now that I'd stripped any semblance of confidence from him. I made sure we didn't sully anything more than a towel once we were inside. I didn't own the place, but I knew the man who did. It was a favor I'd called in, getting him to let me use his summer house for a night, and I wasn't about to make him regret it.
I let Ben shower by himself, watched the steam seep out beneath the door, imagining him scrubbing his skin as clean as he could get it, pushing soapy water up inside of him, not nearly deep enough. We were on the road soon after that. I'd skipped the shower myself, enjoying the feeling of his dry sweat on my skin. I must have smelled pretty damned manly.
We didn't speak once during the drive back, but I didn't mind. I'd peeled his ego away during the last few hours, laid his nerves bare, played with his guts. Nothing he could have said after the fact would have been more revealing, or changed my perception of him. The man may have carried himself with the pride of a total top before that night, a bi-curious metrosexual with a white picket fense, but I knew what he really liked. I knew why he was dissatisfied with his wife, why he'd enjoyed Tammy, a woman who "took charge," controlled his orgasms, rode him like a horse. I knew why he was constantly hard in my presence, in the company of a man who wanted to see him naked, who relished the thought of attacking his cock. He liked being objectified. He liked being used. He was a voracious bottom, a submissive male most aroused by far when someone - anyone - was using his body like a toy. He may have been worn out just then, but it wouldn't be long before he was aching for it again. And I would be the one to give it to him. Happily. I felt like a kid with a schoolyard crush.
I turned onto Milton Street, pulled up beside his car. "I hope you don't think this is the last you'll see of me," I said as he opened the door to leave.
He paused, sighed deeply. "I figured that." He turned and glared at me, the first time he'd been able to look me in the face since my cock slid out of him. "God damn you."
I grinned and patted him on the shoulder. He brushed me off, got out of the van. "Talk to you soon," I called, just before he slammed the door.
I drove back to the barn to collect the few things I'd stashed there, and to clean the place up. I climbed up to the loft with a few rags and some disinfectant. I cleaned off the beam he'd spent the night bound to, rolled up the filthy quilt around the sticky body pillow, threw them along with the mattress onto the dirt floor of the barn below. I capped the whiskey and folded up the card table, leaned it against the chairs. The furniture wasn't mine - it belonged to my friend. This loft was some sort of man cave. There was usually a television and a cooler and a generator, and at some point in the future there would be a couple of old geezers up here watching a football game and drinking brewskies, completely unaware that a man had once got his brains fucked out not five feet away.
The only thing of mine that remained was propped in the shadows beyond the chairs, a digital video camera on a tripod with its lens aimed directly at the spot where Ben had been deflowered. He had been far too drunk by the time we'd gotten up here to notice it, black and unobtrusive as it was, electric tape covering the red light above the lens. He hadn't even noticed me slip my hand into my pocket when we'd arrived, using the small remote there to started recording our...conversation.
I removed it from the tripod and opened the view screen. I rewound it, watching the images flash in reverse at high speed. It had been recording for about five hours. Nearly three of those hours were filled with Ben's sweaty, naked body being abused by my own. God, the angle was spot on. It was...perfect.
I sat in the armchair and unbuckled my pants. I pulled out my hard cock and laid back, listening to Ben's voice shriek and wail, distorted by the small speakers of the camera. I watched his pixelated body writhe under my hands. Before the recorded encounter was over, I'd climaxed three more times, rubbed myself raw. I lay back and drifted in and out of sleep with the camera in my hand. The sun began to rise just before I conked out for good, filling the barn with cold blue light.
February 18th, 2015, 11:08 PM
Re: The Night Owl
Wow again! What a sensuous night filled with rough sex and yet a tenderness once Ben found the pleasure of the experience. Even though he doesn't want to admit it, I'm sure he looks forward to their next meeting. And, so do I. Thanks for an exciting read.
February 19th, 2015, 06:57 AM
Re: The Night Owl
Thanks for sharing your most excellent story with us - greatly appreciated!