My son, My trade

The following is a work of erotic fiction depicting graphic sexual scenes and is meant to be enjoyed by a mature audience.

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It was one of those sweltering hot and thickly humid summer days when Marc Hauser picked up a nail when riding his usually-trusty bicycle home from Billy Warren's place.  Billy was the seventeen-year-old's best friend and had been from infancy.  They'd come up through the school system and would graduate together next year.  It actually wasn't all that surprising.  In this old industrial town more than three quarters of the next graduating class had been enrolled since kindergarten.  Locals rarely seemed to venture far from the home town.  

Normally Marc would have borrowed his father's Ranger to make the short trip to the Warren's, but Buck needed his own wheels that day.  Halfway through pedaling the twenty-odd minutes to Billy's Marc had stripped off his tank top and was bathed in a sheen of early July sweat.  Marc was a good looking boy with a nicely toned and youthfully lean body.  He was active in all school sports but excelled particularly in basketball.  With school out of session for the summer a group of neighborhood boys generally gathered for impromptu games on the court at the park a few blocks over.

Marc kept company with Billy for the better part of the late morning/early afternoon hours.  Mr. and Mrs. Warren kept full-time jobs so the boys had the run of the house.  The boys took advantage of the above-ground pool in the postage stamp sized back yard area and later jerked off side by side in Billy's bed to the senior Warren's porn collection.  Billy's dad had boxes of old VHS tapes.  Both boys agreed these vintage bareback scenes were raunchier than the stuff they found on the internet today.  Billy had a girlfriend, Betsy Dunlap, who wouldn't let him go all the way but allowed the teen to eat her out.  Betsy would finish him off with a hand job, on the rare occasion supplying a few licks to his desperate meat. 

Despite their life-long closeness Billy was unaware of Marc's hunger for cock.  The how and why of keeping his bestie in the dark for so long was something of a mystery to Marc.  After all, at one time or another he'd sucked off most of their mutual friends, including Betsy's brother Ricky.  He guessed it was something that just wasn't talked about.  Most of his buddies wouldn't want it getting around that they'd received the best blow job of their young lives from one of their own.  Billy was also presumably ignorant to the fact that his own father, Frank Warren, had been regularly fucking Marc for months.

Marc wasn't sure exactly what drove him to do the things he did.  All he knew was that he liked it.  Cock turned him on.  He loved sucking on a big, meaty and manly cock.  He loved when it was pounding up his ass.  There was nothing that felt quite as good.  Girls were alright, he supposed, but he preferred the hardness of a man's body to the softness of the female gender.  He liked sex rough and raunchy, not sweet and tender as he imagined it would be with Becky Johnson, his sometimes girl.  

He had convinced himself that he wasn't queer.  It's not like he wanted a boyfriend, for cripe's sake.  Fuck if he wanted to dress up in girl's lingerie or wear makeup!  He was a guy through and through.  It's just that he liked cock.  All these neighborhood men who gave what he wanted were, or at least had been, married with children.  That didn't make them queer.  So why should it him?  Gay guys did straight things; straight guys did gay things.  What did it matter?

His father's stamp of approval, albeit initially reluctant, was something of a relief.  And Buck had sealed the deal with his big daddy cock.  If there was any guy wasn't queer it was Buck.  Yet the big, burly man fucked him whenever he had the itch, which was frequent.  Buck hadn't been getting much, except for the occasional half-in-the-bag barfly he brought home.  Now he had his son's hungry pussy at his disposal.  Sometimes Marc thought he was being punished by the aggressive way Buck fucked him, as if he was just some common whore off the street.  Wasn't much of a punishment, though.  The more savage the fuck, the better Marc appreciated it.  His daddy could fuck him black and blue and Marc still wouldn't complain.

It was an extra kick having his father as his pimp.  Buck had wanted him to take on a summer job and they had come up with the perfect solution.  Marc was a bit surprised that his regulars would pay for what they'd been getting free.  He supposed they anted up to stay on the good side of Buck, now that he knew of their dalliances with his son.  Together they were pulling in a good sum of money each week.  Buck was the banker, of course.  He gave Marc an allowance out of the earnings, tucking the rest away, he said, for Marc's future.  Marc didn't care.  Their enterprise had widened his clientele, and the clientele at Bud's Place, the local bar and his base of operation, considerably. 

Marc set out on the ride home shortly before two.  Billy had taken a summer job at the fast food burger joint down by the train station and was due for duty.  Damn, if it hadn't gotten hotter!  He was pedaling along Mason Boulevard when he caught the nail in his tire.  Cursing his bad luck he surveyed the damage and resolved to walk the rest of the way home.  The unforgiving sun beat down on his ball cap clad head as he strolled bare chested down the quiet local street.  Crossing the intersection of Mason and Thomas he suddenly had an idea.  The Stankowitz garage was down Thomas Street.  Old Joe Stankowitz could patch up his tire and give him some air in the shade of his establishment.

He walked his bike down the worn side street whistling a tune playing in in his head.  No cars passed by.  Other than an occasional dog barking it was relatively quiet at this time of day.  Residences on either side were not unlike his own: old, shabby and in need of repair.  Some yards were overgrown and unattended.  In the midst of this, on the second block, was the old Stankowitz garage.  It was a true eye sore.  The lot was an array of broken down old vehicles.  Cars, trucks, vans, even a few family campers were parked haphazardly, most of them rusting from years of exposure with weeds growing up underneath and out from under their hoods.  Abandoned auto parts lay piled up or scattered about.  Two old gas pumps, relics from a bygone age, were coated in rust and obviously no longer in use.  The station itself was ramshackle with a dented tin roof, faded paint and cracked, smoky windows.  The single bay garage door was raised and open; the inside looked as disorganized as out.  Completing the picture was the proverbial hound dog curled up on the stoop of the entrance to the office, its tongue lolling out with one watchful eye on Marc.

Marc walked his bike into the open garage where Joe's one mechanic was at work under the hood of a car.  Marc recognized it as the Chevy driven by Thelma Whithers, his buddy Jason's mom.  Wife of Clyde, who had once fucked him in the bed of his pick-up in the parking lot of the packing plant late one night.  Marc figured Thelma didn't give it up too often because Clyde had fucked like he was running a race and came like a bull.

"Hey," Marc announced his presence.  The mechanic grumbled something in his deep brusque voice.  "Joe around?" Marc pressed.  This time the man looked up and, with a nod of his head, responded in his thick Polish accent, "Back there."

"Thanks," Marc said, propping his bike on its kickstand out of the man's way.  He didn't much like Bogdan, the repairman.  While the word around town was that he was a fairly decent mechanic, Marc found him to be churlish.  Unsubstantiated rumors were that old Joe had hired him fresh out of prison years ago and given him a room in back of the garage.  With an oxen-sized neck, overly muscular arms and a boorish manner he made a formidable appearance.  But without his talent Stankowitz' Garage would probably have folded up.  Practically hidden out of the way on a non-descript side street it only attracted local clientele as it was.

Leaving Bogdan to his work Marc passed through the doorway at the back of the garage.  He failed to notice the big Pole's dark eyes roving over his long, lean shirtless body as he departed or the way his thick tongue slovenly rolled out over his thick lips.  His huge paw took hold of the crotch of his overalls to give himself an appeasing squeeze before he returned to the work at hand.

Marc found Joe in the junk yard of a back yard tooling around with some equipment.  Try as he might, if indeed that is what he was doing, Joe would never organize this mess if it took him the rest of his life time.  Which wasn't all that long.  Joe was pushing seventy.  And looked it.  He was a thin, lanky kind of guy with a face that read like a road map.  Perhaps from too much time in the sun he was all deep creases and wrinkles, but with amazingly clear sky blue eyes like a diamond in the rough.  He needed a shave badly.  Not the type able to grow a full beard, his face was all spotty white sprouts.  His salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper, was thin and combed (if that was the word for it) straight back from his forehead.  Both sleeves of his yellowed t-shirt were rolled up to his shoulders with one hardly concealing his ever-present pack of smokes.  His arms were covered with cheap, bleeding blue tattoos from his long-ago stint in the Navy.  Marc knew there were others under that nearly threadbare material.

No relation to, or ever to be confused with, the even older Stankovich, the perv who lived in an old creepy house down on McAllister, Joe had taken over the garage business from his father.  Working side by side with the man for years he'd learned enough to get by but entrusted the heavier repairs to knowledgeable mechanics, the latest being Bogdan.  He'd never married or had kids, but had his share of pussy in his younger days.  What recruit on a Navy base didn't?  Most days after the six o'clock closing hour Joe could be found on a bar stool over at Ralphie's reminiscing with the rest of the old timers from town. 

"Hey there, Stank!" Marc greeted, gaining the man's attention.  Joe looked up from his "work", saw the wholesome teen wearing not much more than low-slung shorts and those baby blues brightened considerably.

"Howdy, little Hauser," he responded in his smoke-gravelly voice.  Suddenly his mundane day had improved.

Casting a thumb over his shoulder Marc told him, "My bike's got a flat.  Wondering if you could patch it up for me."

"Think I can handle that," the grizzled old man good naturedly replied.  Then, with a wink, "Gonna cost ya though."

Marc grinned knowingly.  "I've got the means to pay up."

Joe walked Marc back into the garage where he searched for the supplies necessary to perform the job while making small talk with the boy.  Marc kept up his side of the conversation, but his true attention was directed at the full crotch of Bogdan, who was sprawled under Thelma Whither's car.  With the upper portion of the man's body hidden under the car Marc was able to ogle the rest of him without the loutish stud even knowing.  Sure looked like Boggie was packing those cotton overalls.  Marc felt a familiar twitch in his swampy asshole.

Joe set to work removing the tire and inner tube from Marc's bike, locating the puncture and patching it.  Marc knew it was only a temporary fix.  But if would be enough to get him home.  He really needed to talk to Buck about getting him his own car.  With all the money he was making with his "summer job" they could afford a decent used model.

Rubbing his gnarled, nicotine-stained hands together after he'd successfully completed the task, old Joe looked to Marc with that playful twinkle in his eyes and said, "Come on back to the office, boy, so's we can settle the bill."

"Sure, Stank."  Turning to take one last look at Bogdan's bulge he was startled to see that the big, mean Pole had slid out from under the car and was curiously observing the both of them.  Almost nervously Marc looked away from the intimidating hulk and followed Joe out of the area.

No sooner were they in the small, cluttered office Joe was leaning his butt against the beat-up desk and undoing the fly of his worn, tattered jeans.  A smiling Marc dropped to his knees in front of the old geezer and lent a hand.  Between the two of them they got the ragged denim and discolored boxers down around Joe's soiled work boots.  Marc took the proprietor's cock in hand and gave it a few introductory strokes.  There was nothing arthritic about the aged man's prick; he was already stiff.  Joe's penis was long and slim with a wide crown, slender enough to effortlessly glide into a fuck hole but lengthy enough to make a boy yelp.  His balls hung long, the bag spiked with white-gray hairs. 

Grinning up at Joe like a young rascal Marc swirled his tongue up the underside of the throbbing dick.  Old Joe whimpered as his aged body quivered with delight.  The boy's licker worked all over the gnarled shaft, relishing the flavors of sweat and man meat.  He lapped at the old man's dangling ball bag, sucking on each nut separately.  Lifting the hefty sac away he dragged his tongue along Joe's tasty taint, the tip of his muscle teasing the frontal fold of the man's funky ass crack.  Joe mewled again as his cock twitched with an intense yearning. In their past encounters Marc had gone to town eating out Stank's stinky asshole.  Their very first time out in the garage work area after closing time old Joe had sat right down on his face.  Marc had snaked his tongue straight up the geezer's shitter and nearly gave the elder a coronary.

Returning his attention to the main member Marc treated the staff to some long, pleasing strokes before forming his lips around the swollen head and taking it into his mouth.  Hungrily sucking on the knob he swirled his tongue around the ridge of the glans and stabbed into the piss slit.  Marc moaned appreciatively at the taste of stale urine gathered there.  Joe was gripping the edges of the desk with his wizened hands, his head thrown back on his bony neck and emitting all sorts of heated groans. 

Marc grasped Joe's nut bag, yanked on it like a farm boy milking a cow and, without warning, went down on the man's cock.  All the way down.  To the silver-haired root.  Joe cried out and his worn body went rigid.  Marc borrowed his nose in Stank's ripe pubic patch as he ate the cock.  Even with seven to eight inches of hard meat buried down his gullet Marc didn't gag.  At seventeen he was a pro.  He remained that way with cock lodged in his throat, its soft tissues enfolding the pulsating organ.  He knew it was driving Joe crazy and deliberately prolonged his agony.

Quickly he came up with lips pressed tightly against the wet shaft while shaking his head from side to side for added sensation.  He scoured the head with his tongue before going right back down again.  Up and down he went, sucking Joe into the heat of his throat and then coming nearly off it.  Joe took hold of the bobbing head, knocking the ball cap clear and digging his fingers into Marc's short, dark hair.  "Suck that dick, mlodzian!" he gasped.

Marc barely took a breath, shoving his face up and down rapidly and really hammering his gullet. Joe was leaking now, which only served to spur the boy on further.  He picked up the pace, fucking Joe's prick with his face as aggressively as possible.  Cock soared between his lips and down his throat.  Joe's heavily swinging ball bag was pounding against his rising and falling Adam's apple.  Marc's fingers were digging into the loose flesh of Joe's buttocks as he held him close.  He was hardly aware that his own boy meat was leaking a steady stream of pre-cum into the pouch of his shorts.  The only thing that mattered was Joe's dick and his cock hungry mouth.

Rising from the filthy floor with lust in his eyes Marc stripped off his shorts and stroked his throbbing teen meat.  Trading places with the codger he cocked one knee up on the desk and leaned forward on both hands, effectively thrusting his boy butt back at the other man.  "Fuck me, Stank!" he practically begged as he looked over his bare shoulder.

One look at those golden, squirming hinds was all it took for Joe to grab a nearby can of grease, slather it over his aching prick and mosey on up behind the wanton boy.  With a special gleam in his suddenly vivacious blue eyes Joe rubbed his dick head against Marc's flexing pucker, punched through his sphincter and slid home.  Having taken Stank's dick a number of times, and well aware that his wasn't quite as thick as most others, Marc clenched his inner muscles to make it a tight, sweet fit.  Slick, quivering membranes wrapped around Joe's cock like a warm love glove.  Joe shoved his cock all the way up Marc's inviting ass, gasping with unrestrained pleasure when buried deep.  Steadying himself with one weathered hand in the small of the boy's back, the other grasping his shoulder, he began the fuck.

Although years beyond his prime when it came to fucking old Joe was quite energetic.  His bone hammered Marc's hole like a teen with his first piece of pussy.  His long, slim one repeatedly stabbed into the bottom boy's bowels with long, fast strokes.  Marc's ass ate it up, holding a firm pincers grip around the battering shaft and sluttishly working it from within.  Reaching down to take hold of his teen cock he stroked himself in tandem to Joe's frenetic thrusts.  Shit, he hadn't gotten off in, well, at least an hour.  Getting the flat which prompted him to come to the garage had turned out to be a blessing of sorts.

The low-voltage window air conditioner did little to dispel the oppressive heat of the summer's afternoon and the both of them were dripping sweat in short order.  Joe never stopped thrusting himself into the boy's luscious butt.  He had heard rumors down at the bar that Buck was selling his son's ass now.  So the father finally caught on to what had been going on for years.  Joe couldn't find fault with him.  If Marc was his son, well grandson, he'd be making a profit from that fine piece of ass, too.  He chuckled at the possibility of Buck offering a senior citizen's discount and plowed Marc with renewed vigor.

Marc clenched the pistoning dick even tighter and heaved his ass back against Stank's frenetic thrusts.  He hadn't had a dick in him all day.  He and Billy hadn't quite reached that level yet.  But they were getting close.  And why not?  He'd been a cum dump for most of his other buddies:  Bryan, Jason, Joey and black Darnell.  It was all kind of secretive.  So far none knew about the others.  Buck knew.  He'd confessed almost all to his father, usually as a prelude to their fucking.  Buck seemed to like hearing about his escapades.  It got him all amped up.  And when Buck got boosted he fucked like a madman.

Marc could always tell when Stank was getting close.  He started slowing down, like that race horse that couldn't quite make it to the finish line.  His breath turned ragged, and there were times Marc feared he might have done the old fuck in.  He mumbled incoherent words through his dentures and then he was quivering.  Weak kneed and wobbly the old man rammed his cock up Marc's boy pussy one final time and shot off his load.  Watery jets of octogenarian cum sprayed way up Marc's insides.  For an old guy Joe shot a fairly decent amount.  Beating his meat, Marc was close but not close enough.  Fatigued and drained, Joe had already pulled out and fallen back onto the ripped chair behind the desk in front of Marc trying like hell to catch his breath.  Frustrated, Marc reached behind and thrust two fingers up his wet ass to fuck himself while he worked toward his own release.

Just then the door banged open.  A heavy bass voice was saying in a thick accent, "Finished car, Szef.  What----?"  Marc shot his head back and saw the beefy mechanic standing there filling the doorway with disbelief etched on his barbaric face. 

Sitting back and trying to regroup old Joe appeared nonplussed by the intrusion.  "Close the door, Bogdan.  You're letting out the fucking air."  As if that would help.  "Get yourself some pussy.  The boy is good."

The boorish lout looked from Marc to Stank, then back to Marc again with uncertainty showing on his primitive features.  Marc swallowed hard and the fine hairs bristled on his smooth, nude body.  There was something intimidating about this big, muscular oaf.  Marc had long ago decided he didn't like him and to keep his distance.  Now Stank was offering him up to the creature. 

Marc's eyes widened when the giant's sausage-like fingers grasped the zipper on the front of his overalls and pulled it downward.  For Marc the reveal seemed to go at a lumbering pace when in actuality it was only a matter of seconds.  The beast had a thick, stocky neck with hairs in the hollow of his throat which spread down over a massive chest glistening with sweat.  His pecs were meaty slabs of prime beef with large purplish nipples barely visible under the pelt.  His waist was thickset, the belly hard and curving outward sexily.  As the outfit fell off his shoulders Marc couldn't help but gasp at the arms of death which were revealed.  They were huge, strong and massively muscled.  His brawny corded forearms alone looked like they could easily snap a boy's neck. 

Marc's lower lip quivered and he audibly whimpered when the uniform dropped from the ape's hips.  A breathtaking and angry looking tower of man meat unlike any the boy had seen before jerked up proud and heavy from a thick nest of manly crotch hair.  It was a magnificent, tough looking hunk of flesh!  At least ten inches of meat, thicker than some men's wrists, throbbed mightily, bloated blue veins pulsing along the surface.  A heavy cowl of plentiful, darker foreskin could barely contain what looked to be massive, juicy cock head.  Bogdan's big, greasy nuts looked huge and heavy in their hairy, cum-bloated sac.

Fearful at first, Marc thought to scramble over the desk and out of reach but enormous hands grabbed him by the waist and the beastly cock was thrust against his asshole.  At first, despite Joe's anal assault, it failed to give so Bogdan dipped his fingers into the container of axle grease Stank had utilized and smeared it over his massive knob and beefy shaft.  Marc began to protest but the ogre heedlessly thrust again.  This time the huge head popped through.  Marc's eyes and mouth popped wide and a soundless cry attempted to emit from his stretched lips.  Bogdan thrust once more and his bull cock soared through Marc's fuck channel.  With a silent scream Marc was elevated off his anchoring foot.  His leg came up so both knees were secured wide apart at the edge of the makeshift desk with ass propped up and out.  His chest fell flat on the surface and he gripped the far edge of the desktop with his fingers.  Directly in front of him old Joe was hunched down in his chair, legs apart and stroking his miraculously re-energized cock.

"Hehehe," the ancient degenerate cackled with delight.  "Fuck that chlopiec, Bogdan."

Although fucked by some big cock, most notably dorky postal delivery man Clayton Hoyt who measured in, he was sure, at more than twelve, Bogdan's stallion dick was even more formidable.  The Polish boar pounded him with wild abandon showing little regard for Marc's comfort.  He was just a wet, warm and hugging hole for the brute's debauched use.  He heaved and thrashed against Marc with the full length of his fuckpole.  The whole thick, hard shaft reached up to the boy's stomach with each of his hard pumping strokes.  Marc grunted every time he was impaled by the mighty club.  If he hadn't been gripping the edge of the desk, and Bogdan wasn't digging his meaty fingers into his hips, Marc thought he would surely have been propelled clear across the desk into Stank's lap!

The cute young teen's nearly weekly visits to the garage hadn't gone unnoticed by Bogdan.  Although he had some suspicion of what was going on he wasn't entirely certain until he walked in on it today.  Marc was a dziwka, a whore.  He'd fuck anything.  Even an old man like Joe.  Boggy had known many like him of the female gender in the home country.  During his prison stint he'd become familiar with the other variety.  A big, virile man could not go for over a year without some kind of pussy.  Bogdan always took what he wanted. 

Stealing into the states and hiding from immigration officials in Joe's garage he needed a lady to wed, strictly for the purpose of gaining citizenship.  The pickings were slim.  Every now and then he ventured out on foot to one of the town's juke joints where he scored pussy from some bar fly.  But not often enough.  Bogdan was a virile man who needed to get laid regularly.  It had now been weeks since he'd last gotten off.  The young American boy's visit couldn't have come at a more necessary time.  Bogdan was desperate, horny and in need of a hole.  This young boy whore was fulfilling his needs nicely.

With what sounded like a growl to Marc's ears Bogdan's strong, grease-stained hands effortlessly flipped him over onto his back.  Instinctively spreading his long, limber legs and bringing them down to his sides he breathlessly watched as the hunky oaf mounted him.  The brawny Polack had a fierce look about him.  His brows were knitted in a scowl and nearly bisecting. Thick lips were pulled back from his teeth, which gnashed menacingly.  His dark eyes were wide and almost frightening.  He was a mean fucking machine and Marc was his whimpering prey.

Bogdan's hairy, muscular body glistened with perspiration as he savagely plugged the teen.  Sweat trickled from his brow and dripped from the tip of his nose.  It rained down his expansive, heaving chest and dropped from the nubs of his meaty man tits.  Under other circumstances Marc would have ran his exploratory hands up that Brahman sized torso but he had the idea this man was not to be toyed with.  Despite the brutality of the fuck Marc found himself strangely aroused by this intimidating brute.  He, and his huge cock, were unlike any Marc had had before.  And Marc was always open to new sexperiences.  He just prayed this reckless beast didn't destroy his hole for others.

Ravaging Marc with a rough, almost brutal fuck Bogdan’s strong hand held him firmly in place. He felt the teen's pussy attempting to clutch his pistoning cock, perhaps trying to expel it, but he forcefully broke through and pounded way up into the boy's belly.  Those warm, lustrous insides gripping him so tightly felt delightful against his big meat.  He heaved back and forth, showing no signs of fatigue, driving his cock home with each hammering thrust.  He relished the fear, laced with excitement, in the teen slut's emerald eyes.  Each time Marc attempted to lift his ass to meet his thrusts Bogdan slammed him back down.  But that didn't stop Marc from trying. This boy knew how to take a fuck, better than most of that jailhouse vermin he'd satisfied his desires with.  No way could the old man, his boss, treat this boy the way he deserved.

As Marc brazenly watched the heavy muscles on Bogdan's frame rhythmically move with the force of his exertions his head was suddenly pulled back to hang over the edge of the desk.  Old Stank, obviously rested, had risen from his chair and rejoined the action.  With one quick movement he shoved his cock into Marc's gaping mouth and down his throat.  Marc choked.  Not that he couldn't handle Joe's meat stick but the assault was unexpected.  He quickly regrouped and began working his special talents on the old man's dick.  While Boggy pumped in and out of his hot ass Joe sawed through Marc's esophagus.  With dick in his mouth and another fucking him deeply Marc's trim body was writhing on that desktop.

With Bogdan's thick stem ceaselessly scraping across his boy button when Marc came the only surprise was that it hadn't happened much earlier.  Marc's entire body strained and thrashed, gripped Bogdan's cock root even tighter and panted around Joe's prick as scads of teen cum burst from his dick eye and painted pearl lines across his torso.  With Marc frantically massaging his buried crank Joe tensed and erupted, spilling his seed into the boy's mouth.  Although he might be old, when Stank was sexed up he was capable of delivering more than once.  Hot cum juice filled Marc's mouth and the boy greedily guzzled it down.  There was a gamey taste to it that was not at all unpleasant.  At least not to Marc.  He reveled in the various flavors of cum.

Tirelessly assaulting Marc's asshole throughout Bogdan suddenly went rigid.  His big body stiffened and his striated muscles flared larger than before.  Vessels bulged at his neck, his temples and along his arms, blue-blooded veins threateningly throbbing.  His brutish face had turned a frightening shade.  His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his teeth were bared and clenched.  With a bellow to raise the dead in the cemetery a few blocks over he convulsed and exploded.  White hot fire soared up from his sweaty balls and blasted Marc's insides with thick jets of stud cum.  It burst from his cock with the force of a fire hose, flooding Marc's asshole with thick, rich cream.  With each blast Boggy's cock felt as though it flared wider, stretching Marc to impossible proportions.  Marc wasn't sure how long it went on but, one thing for certain, the hunky Polack came like a stallion.

Afterward, as Joe once again fell back into his chair, done for the day, and Bogdan pulled up his overalls, Marc slipped back into his shorts, once again thanked Joe for fixing his tire and nearly fell over his own feet in his curious haste to get out of the garage.  He'd been fucked a lot, but this was one for the books!  Throwing a leg across the bike he propped his ass against the front of the seat and rode the nose of the saddle.  He knew he'd be leaking cum all the way home.  Just out of curiosity he reached a hand into the seat of his shorts and felt the load trickling out.  Bringing his fingers to his nose he sniffed the spent cum and then, desirous of tasting Bogdan's load, licked them clean. 

Just then a movement at the garage caught his eye and he turned to see the big man leaning against the door frame.  Bare chested, with the top of his overalls hanging down around his hips and the top of his bush just showing at the crotch, he had his arms crossed over his expansive chest.  Marc was almost certain he saw what passed for a grin on the brute's face.  Swallowing hard, Marc pedaled out of the lot and away from the scene knowing, regardless, he would be back.