I would like to thank Devon for his assistance in editing my stories, as well

as the encouragement provided by his own submissions.

This is a work of fiction although some scenes may have been modeled after events that are real

and possibly autobiographical. Any resemblance to real or actual events, and/or persons,

living or deceased, is purely coincidental and not intentional.

All legal disclaimers apply. If you are under the age of 18 (21 in some areas) and too young to

be reading such material, or if you are in a locale or country where it does not meet moral

standards, then please leave immediately and come back when it is legal for you to do so.

Comments and suggestions are appreciated at [email protected]

"Kye" Part 1

Eating a T-bone steak at Jake's Place was one of my favorite ways to spend a Saturday

evening. I didn't do it often enough. Jake could always cook my medium-rare steak to

perfection, and when it was topped by fresh mushrooms and Vidalia onions sautéed in butter, it

could literally melt in your mouth. It would take a lot to tear my attention from that

anticipated feast, but tonight it did happen.

A group of boisterous young men strode through the door, making more noise than they should

in a fine restaurant like this. They were all about the same age, possibly in their early 20's,

and judging from what I could view, all were probably football players from the local university.

As they came through the door, each was more studly than those preceding him. It was a sea of

soft brown and green eyes, square jaws, and thick thigh muscles rippling beneath snug jeans.

Today had been the last game of the season, and the team had finished with a very successful

record, having only lost twice to great opponents. They were probably going to celebrate with

large quantities of meat and beer, now that the season was over. Maybe they'd get a bowl

invitation, maybe not, but tonight would be for celebrating.

The last guy through the door really grabbed my attention. "He" was a few inches taller

than the others, and drop-dead gorgeous. Most of the casual conversation, except for those

guys, seemed to stop as all eyes in the place centered on him. He strode in to the main dining

room, his bubble butt straining at the fabric of his jeans as the globes of his ass moved

seductively back and forth, rubbing against each other. He joined all the others near a

large table, and he seemed to take no notice of all the attention he was getting.

Removing his jacket, he revealed a t-shirt pulled snuggly across massive pecs, with his nips

poking through like they were trying to escape the fabric. His sleeves gathered tightly around

his huge biceps, and he swept his collar-length black hair away from his face as he reached out

with his other hand to slap one of his teammates on the back in response to a comment. He joked

with the others as they gathered at the bar, ordered drinks, then sat at that large table,

probably no more than 25 feet from me. "He" sat at the far side of the table, facing me, which

was going to make eating my meal difficult. I could do little more than stare and drool when

I was not looking down at my plate. Suddenly, the T-bone wasn't the focus of my attention.

I finished my meal as fast as I could, chewing silently as I raked over his upper body with

my eyes, taking in his huge delts, the dimples in his cheeks, and that killer smile. I ate

faster, knowing that I needed to get out of Jake's and get home as soon as possible. The

Internet would provide me with an opportunity to "express" how I was feeling right now. But

before I could get away from the table, my boner would have to soften so that it would stop

tenting my slacks.

I would look up occasionally to steal a glance, then look back down to settle myself. I

knew I could get going sooner if I would just stop looking, but I couldn't. One more glance,

then I'll go, I thought. I looked up, and his eyes met mine. I couldn't look away. Busted.

My erection swelled. He smiled. I knocked over my water glass in my hurry to look away. A

little of the water dripped onto my lap, so I got up, napkin in my crotch to soak up the water,

and I headed to the restroom. On my way over, I waived for the waiter to bring my bill to my

table.

I dried the water off my pants as well as I could, then walked over to the urinal to take

a piss. The ride home was long, and relieving myself would make the trip more enjoyable.

I heard the restroom door open, then close, as someone walked over to the urinal next to

me on my right. It was "him." He unzipped his jeans which seemed to hang across his bubble

butt, just below an impossibly thin waist. He pulled out the thickest, longest piece of manmeat

I had ever seen, and started to piss. Mine trickled and slowed as my cock stiffened again. My

eyes moved up from his cock to find him looking at me with piercing blue eyes.

"You like what you see?" he asked casually. He smiled again.

I didn't know what to do. I was almost old enough to be his dad, and buried deep in the

closet. I certainly didn't want to explore my sexuality in the men's room. I smiled in return,

and focused back on trying to finish the job I had started. It was then that I realized I was

pissing on my shoe. I corrected my aim, finished, and began to stuff my swollen prick back into

my slacks.

Suddenly a hand grabbed the hair on the back of my head and jerked me backward. "I said,

do you like what you see?" he repeated, but now there was a scowl on his face.

"I saw you staring at me, looking me up and down like a piece of meat. No guy does that

to Kye Ramos and gets away with it. So you want a piece of me? I've got a piece that I think

you can service. Not going to get any cunt tonight anyway, so you'll do."

With that, he dragged me backward by my hair into the handicapped stall, as his jeans fell

to his knees. He swung me around, my cock still hanging out of my pants, which had fallen to

my ankles. Then he slammed me down on the stool.

"Think you can take this?" he snarled. As I opened my mouth to protest, he used his hand

till tangled in my hair to pull my head forward and his other hand to guide my head onto his

stiffening cock. He jammed it in, hitting the back of my throat, and I gagged.

"Oh, no, none of that, faggot boy! You are NOT going to get ANYTHING on MY jeans. Don't

you dare juice onto my jeans. And NO teeth!" With that, he began pistoning into my mouth, and

I continued to try to keep from gagging.

"Too bad I've only got a few minutes in here. I'll bet you have a really nice man pussy,

don't you faggot boy."

His cock was battering the back of my throat, and suddenly it slipped in, choking me. He

held my head on his cock, and he groaned as he began to deliver a huge load of cock snot down

my throat. I was pulling at his hands so that I could back my head off his cock, but he just

tightened his grip on my hair, making it feel like he was going to pull it out at the roots.

He kicked his foot at my crotch, diverting my attention by slamming into my balls. Things

started to go black, and then he pulled back, freeing me from his cock. He untangled his hands

from my hair, and lightly slapped my cheek. When he let go, I fell awkwardly to the floor.

I tried to sit up on the floor, pants still around my ankles.

"That was real nice, honey," he whispered as he leaned over to put his face next to mine.

Then he hauled back and slapped my face as hard as he could, knocking me back to the floor.

Raising his voice, he glared at me and yelled, "I don't ever want to see you in this restaurant

again. This is my territory, and I don't want you looking at me, ever!"

Kye opened the stall door, and started to walk away when he saw that my wallet had fallen

out of my pants pocket. He picked it up, and looked inside. "Well, it looks like you're going

to buy dinner for me and my friends, too!" He thumbed through the wad of bills that he found,

taking all but about ten dollars. Then he took my driver's license, saying, "This will make a

nice souvenir on my desk at home. It'll remind me of the nice date we had, sweetie. Oh, and

here we have a Visa card, too. How nice of you to buy me some new clothes. Thanks, slut."

Then he snarled again. "Now when you leave the restroom, I do NOT want you looking around.

Just get the fuck out! NOW!" Kye turned around, and walked out. I pulled myself together,

feeling lucky that he had not ripped my clothing. I walked out of the restroom and headed for

my table. As I got there, I realized that the money Kye had left in my wallet wouldn't pay for

my meal. I flagged down the waiter, and asked to see Jake.

When Jake emerged from the kitchen, He walked directly over to my table. Walking right

across his path, but behind him, was Kye. He glared at me and waived my Visa in his hand,

drawing it across his throat giving me a silent signal that I better not say anything about

the restroom or I'd be dead. I told Jake that I had forgotten my cash at home, and he offered

to put it on a tab that I could pay at a later date, not knowing that I dare not return.

I returned to my car, started the engine, and began to leave the parking lot. I looked in

the rearview mirror to see how I looked, and it was then that I saw the bright red handprint

across my face, and a string of cum hanging down from my lower lip across my chin. Shit!

 

DJ

[email protected]

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