Here I was, in a thin cotton T-shirt, dripping from a mixture of sweat and freezing rain. My backpack was getting wet, which meant my text books were getting wet. There couldn't have been a worse situation to be in, other than the one I was in right now; but I had to make the best of it. I stepped under the little shuttle at the bus stop to avoid getting even wetter. I took a seat on the bench. I sat and rested my legs because I felt like I might've strained a muscle while I was sprinting over here. I also wiped the rain from my face. I crossed my fingers and settled in for the long wait.
A car honked. There was this old blue Ford Mustang that was slowing down. The car only had 2 doors and had a weird paint symbol on both of them. The windows were also tinted. The car came to a stop about a yard past the bus stop. I didn't recognize the car, so I didn't pay much attention to it. Whatever reason they were stopping didn't have anything to do with me. After a minute, the traffic on the busy street slowed down. The blue Mustang cautiously moved in reverse, backing all the way up to the stop. The tinted window of the passenger's side rolled down.
"Yo!" a voice from inside yelled. It was a deep and rough voice. It sounded somewhat like the rapper, Xzibit. I saw the dude's arm reach over and his passenger door opened. With the door opened, I could actually see his face. I still didn't recognize him though. He looked like a less rugged Method Man. His face was smoother and his body was more toned. And as the door opened, the overpowering smell of weed blazed through the cold air.
"You my little brother's folk, right?" he said.
I looked at his face again. I didn't know this nigga. But he thought he knew me- or at least, he thought his brother did.
"You gettin' in or not, nigga?" he said. "It's cold as shit."
For some dumb reason, I just hopped in. I didn't know dude, but there was a good energy about him. Even though everything about him told me that this dude was dangerous, but something in my head told me that he wasn't a danger to me. After all, he thought I was his brother's "folk."
I stood up and grabbed my backpack. I hopped across the sidewalk to jump into the Mustang, and I shut the door behind me.
"I saw you runnin' for the bus. I was like, that looks like Tae's homeboy."
Tae? I thought. Yeah... he mistook me for somebody else. But shit, I was already in the car. What was I gonna say, now? I don't know Tae, so let me out? Nah... the car had heat and it wouldn't be too long of a ride. Sure, it smelled like the nigga was higher than a kite, and I'm pretty sure there was a gun somewhere in this car... but being here beat the alternative, which would've been sitting in the cold and freezing my nuts off. He didn't need to know that I wasn't who he thought I was.
"Yeah," I nodded.
"I see y'all hangin' out all the time. What's ya' name, man?"
"Jamel," I answered. "Most people call me Mello, though."
"Cool. Big D."
"Nice to meet you, D."
"Not 'D', it's 'Big D," he said as he cut his eyes toward me. The nigga was serious. He was legitimately offended that I called him D instead of Big D. No offense, but I wasn't callin' another nigga Big D, in public or private; even if there was a good chance that I would never see him again. I wasn't goin' down like that.
"So... you gotta get straight home?" he asked.
"You mind if we make a quick stop. It's on the way."
Shit... "Nah. You iight."
"Iight, cool," he said. "I just gotta stop and get some papers."
"Ah, ok." I turned my head to look out the window. The less I said, the better. If I just kept quiet, he wouldn't find out that I was lying. Instead, I watched the rain increase. It went from a drizzle to solid rain drops falling on the Mustang's windshield.
"Mello, you smoke?" Big D asked.
I turned my head just in time to catch him pulling a blunt out of his pocket. He pulled the car lighter out to light it real quick.
"You ever tried it?"
He puffed off of his blunt and took it in. Then, he blew the smoke out slowly. I looked over at him and caught the eerily upturn of his lips in a smile. His eyelids lowered like he was becoming sleepy. His lips were full and dark, and the hat on his head sat on top of a wave cap.
"You wanna hit?" he asked.
I thought about it for a second, and he could tell I was thinking.
"What? You want me to put it in your mouth for you?"
"Nah," I said. "Nah, I'm good."
"Iight." He put the blunt back in between his lips and continued driving.
The car was filled with the stench of weed, but also with the thickness of silence. There were very few sounds to be heard. Outside of sound of raindrops pelleting the car, the only other sound was the sound of the Mustang's heater humming. The car had become that awkward kind of quiet.
"Where you stoppin' at?" I asked.
"The crib," he answered. "I told you I gotta get some papers."
Silly me. When he said papers, I thought he meant documents. I thought he was going to be stopping at a mailbox or something. But no, this nigga meant papers to roll his blunts up with.
"Is um... Tae gonna be there?" I asked, covering my back. I didn't want to run into someone that could blow my cover. A nigga wasn't trying to get left stranded somewhere.
"Nah. He's supposed to be hanging with moms today," he puffed his blunt again. "School shoppin' or some shit."
We were coming up on Colorado Blvd, the street that I needed to turn down to get home. "Ay, up here is where I gotta get off."
Dude walked over to his stereo. He had an album in his CD player that had been on pause. When he pressed the button, the album resumed playing. Guess whose album it was? 'Nuthin but a gangsta party, ain't nuthin but a motherfuckin' gangsta party.'
Yeah... ole boy was stuck in the 90's, I was convinced. I took off the wet t-shirt, but didn't know what to do with it. He was so 'upset' about my wetness getting on his carpet and making it smell.
"Yo," I said. But he didn't hear me. As soon as he hit the stereo, he pulled out some waxed paper from his desk and a bag of weed. He'd started rolling his shit up already, and the previous blunt he was smoking hadn't even finished yet.
"Big D," I yelled. This time he heard me. He turned around. "What should I do with this?" I said, holding up my wet t-shirt.
"Set it on top of the hamper for now," he said. "Come here."
I did as he said, and then walked over to him holding the t-shirt he just gave me.
"Here," he handed me the blunt he was smoking.
"I told you, I don't like that."
"You said you never tried it. How you know what you like until you try it?"
"I just know," I answered.
"Ok," he grabbed it back, putting it in between his lips.
I allowed my mind to sit and wonder exactly how high this nigga was. I thought that if I punched him right now, he wouldn't even be able to feel it. His eyes were chinky. This nigga was feeling good, I could tell.
He pulled the blunt out of his lips. "You right," he said. "This shit is so strong you probably couldn't take it. I'd have to shotgun it to you first."
Again, the resident weedhead placed the stick in his mouth.
"What's a shotgun?"
He didn't answer. He just looked at me, and took a step closer. His hand grabbed me by the back of my neck gently to hold me in place. He blew smoke right into my mouth. He exhaled just as I inhaled it.
"That's a shotgun," he said.
"Oh," I said.
"Felt good didn't it."
I didn't know how to respond to that. Shit, I felt like the nigga had just kissed me so I wasn't even sure what he was talkin' about. Was he talkin' about the weed or was he talkin' about something else?
"I don't know," I said. "Didn't really feel like anything to me."
He puffed again, and took the same position- but this time, he didn't place his hand on my neck. He stepped into my space, pursed his lips and blew.
I inhaled it, my lips pursed as well. The space between us continually decreased. I don't know who leaned in further, but at some point, our lips touched each other. And while I don't know who wanted it more, Big D definitely was the one to take advantage of it. He registered our lips touching as an admission to allow him to continue touching my lips with his.
His arms reached in and around my body, pulling me into his tough chest. "Big D" had a decent build on him. I couldn't tell at first because it was hidden under this big baggy ass t-shirt that he was wearing. His hands found themselves grazing the sides of my waist and lowering to my hips. He felt the wetness of my jeans but didn't let it bother him. He reached his hands right into my pants to grab my boxers. Then, he pulled my pants down just below my ass.
I could feel his heart beating against my chest. It started to beat faster when his hands lowered to my ass. And even faster, when his hands went into my pants. Once more, the pace quickened when he pulled the waistband of my boxers, and placed his hand on my ass. From there... it seemed to triple when he squeezed my ass cheeks. He played around with my ass for a few minutes, kissing me all the long while.
He pulled back from me.
"You know what I brought you here for, right?" he asked.
I gulped. "Yeah." It may have taken a while to catch on, but I knew.
"You ever done this before?" he asked.
"Well, you're gonna need a lot more of this."
He held up the blunt and patiently waited for me to grab it from him. I did. I took the joint, and tried to mimic him. He smiled, biting his lower lip.
"Get on the bed."
I followed his orders, kicking my shoes off first and then wiggling out of my pants. I'd been waiting for this to happen ever since I realized I was attracted to men. And by the time he got me to take my shirt off, I was hoping this is where things would lead. And the 'shotgun' was the icing on the cake. The positioning of his lips so close to mine made this moment somewhat romantic, in some wild thuggish kind of way.
I got myself comfortable on his bed, smoking his weed. I watched him slowly undress. Big D was roughly in his early to mid 20's. And stood about 6'3, 195 lbs. He pulled that big ass shirt up over his head, and underneath, he had a wifebeater on. And he had a nice build on him. His muscles weren't huge, but they were toned nicely. He had tattoos on his arms too. The right arm had a tattoo of music symbols, and the quote "Reflection of the community." The left arm had a tattoo of hands praying and a few raindrops.
I watched him unbuckle his jeans, and they just fell to the floor. His dick pitched a tent that couldn't keep itself concealed. It freed itself right in that slit of his boxers. He grabbed a jar of Vaseline and rubbed it in. His thick veiny dick had become shiny from the solution. And next thing I knew, he got on the bed and crawled up to me. As he was crawling, I wondered exactly what he was coming up for. Was he coming up for me or was he coming up to get his blunt back?
I pulled the blunt out of my mouth. He was hovering above my face, smiling down on me.
"Come on," he said. "Do it."
I blew up. I blew the smoke out of my lips and watched as it rose up to him and he inhaled. He growled and grunted through his throat. His dick slammed up against my leg. He raised his hand so he could spit into his palm. After he did that, he rubbed the head of his dick through his boxers just to give it an extra glide. He pulled the waistband of his boxers down, just below his nuts and he started guiding his dick to me. I knew I wasn't all that ready. If I was gonna do this, then I needed to get high and get high quickly. I put the blunt back on in my lips and waited.
As I was laying there, my legs spread unto his body, I thought about the possibility of disease. I hoped Big D didn't have anything, And just when I was getting ready to ask him, that calmness came over me again. The same calmness that swept over me before I got into his car. It was that feeling of knowing that Big D was dangerous... but that he wasn't a danger to me. He was safe. I decided to go with the flow on this.
"Come on, baby. Open 'em up."
"Mmm," I hummed as his wet pistol began fighting against the force of my anal cavity.
I began to hiss when he started advancing into me, his dick, feeling like a stiff, hard snake slithering into me slowly.
"Ah..." I said, breathlessly.
"If it starts to hurt, just take another hit," he said.
He slowly withdrew his dick from me. He'd poked repeatedly at my ass but never fully lodged himself deep within me. He'd just worked the tip in, getting the head of his dick into me and then pulling out. Each time, he made my ass split around him. He kept poking and poking, forcing me to cave in.
"You good?" he asked.
I took another drag on the joint. I was good... I was real good. And each time he put it in, I hit the joint harder, and I felt even better. My judgment was definitely clouded, but it all felt good. From the effects that the drug was having on my head to the effect that Big D's dick was having on my anus. I was soothed. I was open, and it didn't take as long as I thought it would. Maybe it was the weed.
Big D's dick was still slimy and working its way into me. This time it was going further than just the tip, and he wasn't pulling all the way out anymore.
"Mmmmh," I moaned.
"You feel dat?" he asked as he flexed his dick inside of me. The sudden stiffening of it knocked at my rectum.
"Ahhhhh," I said, trying to keep it cool.
"Hell yeah," I answered.
"Lemme know that shit, baby." Big D reached up and grabbed the joint from me, then he put it in his mouth. He grunted as he continued to slowly fuck me. His eyes slanted even more, and the joint sparkled through the ember at the tip. Here he was, dragging his stiff dick across my prostate, and I can't recall a time I ever felt this good.
"Ahhh," I said as the fuck progressed. Big D slowly towed his dick through me while smoking his blunt. He took one final puff on it, and then he grabbed it from his mouth. But instead of passing it back to me, he set it in an ash tray that he had on the nightstand next to his bed.
"Yo," I said.
"Nah," he responded. "We can smoke some more after you let me all the way up in this ass."
"Can I hit it deep, nigga?" he asked.
"Yeah... ahh shit." No sooner than I said yes, he was putting the pipe all the way on me. His body pushed all the way down, so he was lodged fully inside.
"Oooh baby... You feel that?"
"Shyt...." The nigga was still in me. He'd sank all the way down and hadn't moved. I guess this was an attempt to get the rest of my body used to his dick the way that he'd gotten my hole used to it earlier. "Fuck..."
"Yeah... that's right. Open that shit all the way up."
My legs parted a little bit. And Big D was pushing upward, genuinely trying to shove more of his dick into me.
"Fuck... this shit feels so good, baby," he said.
He was right. I was teetering that thin line between pleasure and pain.... Actually, I think I was closer to pain, but the weed made me think that it was pleasure. He flexed his dick again, and I was sure that he was dripping pre-cum into my ass. That thought fed my excitement.
"Fuck me, D," I said in a low tone of voice, almost a whisper. I wasn't even sure if he'd heard me over his stereo. And he probably didn't, but he read my lips.
"Yeah, I'mma fuck you." He pulled back his hips and then thrust forward.
"Yeah... let me know I'm hittin' that shit," he said. "Spread that ass apart. Let me up in that ass, boy."
Big D turned me out. I was spreading my legs even further for him as he was ramming me at a mid-tempo. Occasionally, I'd feel his balls gently tapping my ass as his dick slid in and out.
"Yeah, you likin' that shit, bitch? You like gettin' that ass split open?"
"Yeah," I said, suddenly- losing my breath.
"You like this dick?"
Big D leaned into me, coming all the way down on my body. He gave me a kiss, his tongue going deep into my mouth. The shit went so far, it felt like he was trying to make his tongue and his dick meet at some point. I kissed him back, locked up in the moment of sweaty sex with him. My arms wrapped around his body, feeling the ribbed cotton of his wife-beater. His arms wrapped under my neck, keeping us in close quarters, even once the kiss ended.
The song playing on the stereo ended, so for a good couple of seconds, I heard the wet bumping sound of Big D's dick rocketing deep into my ass and I heard just how loudly I was moaning.
"That's it, baby. Let me know if I'm hittin' that shit."
"Ahh, fuck," I said.
Big D was no longer working the straight in and out motion. His hips were rotating like a butter churn. He moved in a motion that forced me to feel more of his girth, and be less focused on his length.
"Ahhh shit," I said.
"That's it baby."
I reached up to kiss him on the lips again. I could hear the low growls in his chest, the growls that were edging themselves up into his throat.
"Fuck me, Big D," I said. "Fuck me harder."
His face became borderline animalistic. Dude looked like a snarling pit-bull.
"Fuck me, nigga."
He beat harder. His thrusts got harder and harder. I could see his muscles tensing up. His shoulders and his neck all flexed at the same time that he roared. His mouth opened and his teeth gritted
I felt a warm sensation in my ass. I knew exactly what it was. Big D had unleashed and now he was coating my colon, washing my insides. His body slowly went into collapse mode. His body lowered back onto mine, and he lied on me- chest to chest.
"That shit felt right, boy," he said, right before planting another kiss on me. As he was kissing, I came too. It was nowhere near as heavy as him or as powerful of an orgasm. He didn't even know I came until he pulled off of me and could see the small trail of cum my twink body left on his abdomen.
"Damn," he said. He slowly pulled his dick out of me. It shined and glistened.
"Yo, I'm picking you up from school tomorrow too."
I chuckled lightly. As much as I would love to make this permanent, there was something I had to come clean about first.
"Um..." I started.
He turned to me.
"I- uh.... I'm not who you think I am."
He pulled his boxers up, and walked over to the jeans that he'd taken off. He hadn't paid any attention to what I said.
"Did you hear me?" I asked. "I'm not who you think I am."
"Yeah...I don't know your brother. I don't know anybody named 'Tae'," I said.
"Nah," I answered.
He nodded as he put his pants back on. I took that to mean that he didn't really care. But that's not what it meant at all.
"I see," he said. "I actually gotta say something too."
"I, uh... I don't have a brother."
This story is a copyright by Mr. Maleficent of the Maleficent Journal and an act of complete fiction. Please always remember to wrap it up.
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