The Stroke of Two

Living in an apartment in upper Manhattan meant several things: I had a hell of a time affording the rent on my own, working as a bookstore clerk (thank god for a little money from my parents each month), and neighbors who, unfortunately had NO respect for one another.

Loud noises at all hours of the day and night, trash left outside their doors (as if the sanitation department did inside pickups, and plenty of stairs to climb (I was SO lucky to have a top floor apartment LOL).

The only saving grace was Lucas. He had just moved in almost a month ago into the apartment directly next to mine, a quiet man of thirty, working as a tax attorney on Wall Street. He stood six three, short cropped black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, deep set emerald eyes, big, meaty hands, and from his daily workouts, a beautifully sculpted body, massive pecs, killer arms, a chest covered in the same fur as his face, long, erect nipples, one pierce with a small hoop, thick corded legs, and an ass that could crack walnuts. Most of the time he was clad in a tank top and a pair of skin hugging Spandex shorts that showed off an immensely huge package. His member seemed to hang down nearly past the leg opening, and on several occasions it was all I could do to keep from staring blindly at it.

I'd invited him to dinner several times, and even offered to bring him dinner in case he didn't have time to eat. He politely declined, saying his girlfriend would be over later to cook or he was going out with friends. Either he knew I liked him, or he was just being kind and didn't wish to offend me. Sometimes I'd open my door a crack to see if there was a girl when I heard someone bounding up the stairs, and most of the time, i'd see a perky redhead, or a buxom blonde bounding towards his place, their silicone glory bouncing up and down like joggers in Central Park without brassieres.

I also noticed that he had a healthy libido, coming from the thin walls that separated our apartments. It was either a headboard slamming against the drywall or the vocal stylings that ranged from:

'Fuck yeah, bitch.'..or 'Suck my massive cock'..or 'yeah, you want that massive tool in your hot pussy, dontcha?' Definitely Oscar material.

One night I had a friend call me, asking if he could spend the night on my couch, since his apartment was being painted. He told me he'd be late getting there, since his shift at the hospital didn't end until two in the morning. I told him I'd leave the door open for him and there would be pillows and blankets for him on the sofa.

I had a hard day at work, with bitchy customers, incorrect invoices, and basically every irritable book lover in New York wanting (actually demanding something). I drank about two or three Bloody Marys and headed for bed, making sure I left the door open.

The chimes at the church on the corner struck at two in the morning, as I stirred in my bed. I heard the door open, and close. There was a bit of stumbling going on in the living room, and suddenly I heard a crash. Getting up and pulling on a robe, I ran into the living room and turned on the light. There, sprawled out on the floor was Lucas, wearing a business suit, his head bleeding from where he had struck the end of the coffee table.

'Shit', I exclaimed and ran over to him. Checking his pulse, just to make sure he was still alive, I turned him over and the rank odor of vomit assaulted my nostrils, along with the pungent aroma of scotch.

'Lucas, can you hear me?'. He didn't respond, so I went to the kitchen, grabbed a wet cloth and soaked it in cold water. I ran back and pressed it against the cut on his forehead.

'Lucas, if you can hear me, say something'. His eyes popped open, and he stared at me blankly.

'What the fuck?' he slurred.

'You fell into my coffee table. Nasty cut on your forehead. Don't think you'll need stitches, though'. He kept staring at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused, and without saying a word, reached up, but his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me to him. He locked his lips to mine, and thrust his tongue deep into my mouth. I pulled away and just looked at him in astonishment. This wasn't happening. It just couldn't be happening. Not to me.

He pulled himself up, his gaze locked upon me, grabbed me by the front of my robe, picked me up like a rag doll, and stumbled a bit as he carried me to the bedroom.

He threw me onto the bed, and began to take his clothes off. All I could do was sit and stare at him, his beautiful body before me, poised to join me between the sheets for whatever reason.

I thought to myself, 'He's drunk. He's gonna fall asleep, even if he does try anything.' Lucas towered over me, leaned over and tore the robe from my body.

'Get naked, bitch. NOW'. His speech was still slurred, and for a moment I hesitated. He then grabbed me to a standing position, pulled off my tee shirt, boxers, threw them aside and pushed me down again. He straddled me, the immense weight from his powerful frame a bit startling at first.

'Suck my cock, whore'. He jammed his nine inch staff into my throat, the mushroom head entering my lips, tasting his precum, as I swallowed every inch of his manhood.

'Oh yeah, baby. Suck it good. Suck that cock dry.' I licked on the shaft. working my eager lips around his veined member, almost ready to lean down and pinch myself to make sure this wasn't some kind of dream. I reached around and grabbed hold of his round, firm ass, pulling the cock deeper within my throat. He was taking my head and with his hand, shoving it back and forth, his fingers digging into my scalp. I reached down and squeezed his balls, feeling them tighten up as I continued to fellate him.

He removed his cock from my mouth, flipped me over on my stomach, spread the cheeks of my ass apart, and proceeded to rim me as no one ever had before. I cried out in passion, as his tongue probed my manhole.

'Oh god. Lucas, lick my asshole. Lick it good, baby'. I was in heaven. I knew I wasn't dreaming. This was truly real for whatever reason it was happening.

Straddling me, my ass still spread wide, he entered me, his tool pressing itself deep within me, and he began to engage his pelvis back and fort in powerful passionate thrusts. He slammed his tool in and out of me, and I begged for him to fuck me harder, as hard as he possibly could.

I was tossed onto my back, my legs flung over his shoulders like a side of beef, and he plunged in again. I moaned like a bitch ih heat, reveling in each thrust of his cock.

'You like that cock, bitch? You like that cock in you? Tell me..scream it out, you whore'.

'Yes, yes! Fuck me harder! Fuck me!' His balls slapped my ass, and he threw his body on top of mine, entwining my body with his.

'Fuck me, fuck me', I cried out. He obliged over and over, for what seemed like hours.

Pulling out of me, he began to pull on his cock, and grunted loudly. 'Man, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna shoot my fucking wad!' He blew the creamy load all over my face, chest, the whiteness ending up all over me, and probably the entire room, for the force of it was like a helicopter blade.

He remained upright for a minute, then I began to see him totter, weaving back and forth. I entangled myself from him and watched as he fell face first into the pillow with a dull thud. The mattress squealed in response. Within minutes, his snoring echoed off the walls of the bedroom.

I collected my robe, went into the bathroom, cleaned myself up, and headed for the sofa. Turning on the TV, I found an old movie and watched it for a bit, until I finally fell into a wonderfully dream filled sleep.

I awoke early later that morning, making a pot of coffee, pouring myself a cup and sitting at the kitchen table, watching the morning sun rising across the brick landscape.

Lucas appeared in the doorway, clad in his boxer briefs, looking rather disheveled. He was still a bit disoriented, and I stood up and headed to the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee. I walked over and handed it to him.

'What the fuck happened last night, dude?' He sipped the black liquid and sat down on the sofa, his hand clutching his forehead.

Many thoughts raced through my mind at that moment, deciding whether or not I should tell him the truth. I smiled to myself, even chuckling.

'Found you in the hallway. You'd passed out. Pulled you into the bedroom, undressed you and let you sleep it off. I didn't have a key to your place, otherwise i'd have taken you inside your apartment'.

He glanced over at me with a crooked smile on his handsome face.

'Thanks, man. I owe you one'.

I quickly sipped my coffee and stared out the window. You already paid me in full, Lucas. Trust me.