To open, pull tab

Author's note: As short as I write 'em. No story, just someone's memory of a casual night when all he needed was sex.

TO OPEN, PULL TAB

Okay, this is looking tasty. Your friend, the one you met, oh, say, an hour ago outside the bus station, is ready for you. Fuck, just getting his hand off your crotch while you drove kinda says he’s up for this and, as he’s diddling with you, you’re getting pretty ‘up’ yourself. To the point that steering is becoming like a Bump Em car ride at a carnival. Good thing this is after midnight so ‘soft targets’ aren’t roaming. Well, except for those walking the streets or leaning against a wall saying they’re in the mood to accept any offer you have in mind. Hell, hold up two fingers, see what happens...they’re not going to think you’re practicing Roman Numerals, just saying, ‘hop in, we can negotiate’. ...which begins while they’re making suggestive moves by sucking you off. Before you lose it, you spit out numbers for further activity to which they-careful not to catch your whanger in their canines-nod yes or no. (Hey, we all know you always turn down the first offer no matter if it’s for a Happy Meal.) But that’s for those still shopping, I got my piece of choice with me.

Slobber on my jeans isn’t what I want but his spit glands seem to be turned on by my six inches, soft, now eight inches, hard, he’d like to swallow. I got two options, pull over behind something that blocks whatever is going to happen next, like a mating pair of dumpsters in an alley, or find something with walls and a bed. The sort of (alleged) motel where, to save money, they use one Lava Lamp for the whole room. The good thing is if you’ve just passed a line of street entertainers, you’re not far from the sort of fuck joint you need-ones to whom credit is unknown but have everything but an hourly meter by the door to the ‘room’. No point in cruising around to find ‘the best’ of them, better to pick one where A. The cops are no longer in the parking lot, B. Most of the lights on their sign work plus C. The price is bigger than the name of the place. Only problem now is to unlatch… “Hey what is your name?” from your fly, (It’s Barry-or that’s his choice so go with it.)….stroll into the ‘reception’ area, put cash on the desk, accept a key then scoot out. No point in letting ‘Barry’ cool down...if that’s even possible; Apparently he likes you or wants to give you that impression.

For those interested in the architecture involved in the hospitality industry, this place has some unique features namely that it would be harder to get doors to rooms closer together without knowing that what you were getting was a locker. Clearly interested in the safety of their ‘guest’, ‘patrons’, ‘return visitors’, there are more cameras surveying the area then a medium security prison. Once you open the door which reveals...the sort of room it’s possible to wonder what management is concerned you might steal. Remember I mentioned picking a place just then cop-less? That’s what’s on their mind. Somewhere in the owner’s career, it was found it was easier to just hand over the ‘incident’ cassette (several views) to the detectives rather than try and give a verbal description in a language not their own. That or the detectives could learn Hindi….Oh, you know you’ll be safe once inside; These are the ultra keyless entry numbers that not only require you turn something but enter a code which, you’re told, only works once. I.E. Don’t run out for a six pack unless you’re planning to bust down the door on the return...which will be on video for the law suit about damage to property.

It’s the sort of ‘room’ that only allows two persons, of any combination of sex, provided they stand parallel to the walls when moving and understand that, if you’re dumb enough to sit on anything in the bathroom, one of you has to be in bed while the other slithers through the door.

Forgot something. Checking in to your choice of places to do naughty things, or fuck, you actually have luggage; No clothes but the return client, to any of these, brings not only cleaning supplies-watching the acid you drop in the toilet bowl sizzle while it eats the remnants of many past sitters is instructional-but towels, something to put on the bed (none of these places bothers to mention ‘fresh linen’) as well as a general disinfectant that, once you open the door, you put your arm with the spray bottle of it in and hold the button down until it runs out of accelerants. Propping the door open-you really want what you’ve just added to the air of the room to have time to kill, or at least maim, anything that might try and harm you. While Barry is puzzled at this pause-you’re limited conversation up to that point has revealed any explanation would be futile as, well versed in sexual activities as you (hope) he is, there’s a certain lack in basic communication skills; Apparently your new name is ‘Dude’ as that’s how he addresses you. Just for shits and grins, give him a name-not yours-to see if you ever hear it again.

There’s a conundrum here. As much as you want the purity inside to improve, given all those cameras you’d be well advised to not involve yourself in something that, while of no interest to the police, could become part of a grainy reel sold online under the title, “Parking Lot Fucks”. Trust me on this one. Something like that DOES exist, maybe not where you are, but that doesn’t mean betting on it’s absence is something you’ll do. However, standing around discussing...anything isn’t a possibility. Barry isn’t the sort of man with whom you make out-you’ve already risked God knows what when he blew you but….something has to be done; I’ve been known to open the trunk, say I thought there was a flat, then change a tire. Buys time which is your whole, and only, purpose. By the time the trunk lid is closed, the room can be opened even if it does have a smell that more than suggests surgery could be done in it.

By the light of the Lava Lamp the two of you sidle around each other, just to show him how the evening will be spent, you pull off his pants while he oozes out of a T shirt that was worn only for advertising “Hard Rock” somewhere or to buff his nipples. Now that he’s ‘revealed’ the next activity is cleaning him up. Again, into the suitcase while he’s pulled up from the bed and forced into the bathroom then standing a tub that would seem small to someone planting Geraniums. The only prayer you need here is that the water will turn on-it does-so “Barry” can be sluiced down. Sometimes I take a can of scrubbing stuff, sometimes a bottle of ‘Dawn’ either one works. He’s howling as the water hasn’t, probably never will, got even tepid. However, you do have a treat for him; A fresh towel also from the bag. Typical of his profession, being that clean is an occasional thing but, to his credit, he seems grateful. Or confused; The only way Barry’s lips express anything is when they’re sucking cock or screaming...for whatever reason.

Time to get ready for The Big Event.

Up to now all “Barry” has done is suck you….something he’ll continue to do when various parts of him aren’t doing something else. It’s now time to set some ground rules, well, the one rule which is what you want to do is what will be done. Back to the suitcase. He’s told to roll on his stomach, which he’ll do, while you take the moment to tell him you like it rough so he’ll like it rough. Rough is going to start soon but first...he get a manacle on each wrist attached to a chain which is attached to the legs of the bed, Same for his ankles. Time to get out the gloves, the ones with very small, very sharp prickles on them. Whether he likes his massage or not, whether he verbalizes his opinion depends on whether he gets gagged now or eventually. Given the state of his teeth, whatever is stuck in there could easily pop a few more but, no consideration for the neighbors, they don’t care about you, this is to shut him up. There’s a moment you may want him to make noise but...not yet.

Now is when you act on what you knew before ‘Barry’ got into your car; What you want is sex, maybe some perversion, but that’s down the road. You have the other part of what’s needed so the only question in front of you is...what you’d like to do now? Back to the suitcase where, attached to the lid, are a couple of paddles, one with holes, one without holes and another made from strapping leather. Best way to start this is to hop up, straddle him with your thighs, carefully laying which ever you’ve chosen to be ‘next’ withing easy reaching distance.

Toss in a little conversation. “I got a saying, bad boys get spanked, bad men get walloped….”. If he doesn’t know which he is….You’ll give him the opportunity to figure it out.

There’s a point in starting off with just some slaps-for one thing it leads him astray in that, while he knows, or may know, or, hell, maybe he’s just flat stupid, this is the warm up. Also, people forget this, spanking is hard on hands. All those small bones, no matter how great your grasp, suffer from sudden contact with anything, even something sort of soft like an ass. You know, because this isn’t the first man you’ve started working on with your hands, how far you should, not could, should go that will leave you with the sort of strength you’re going to need later for other activities. ‘Barry’ doesn’t have the kind of logic that lets him on that fact but, later, if he reviews-highly unlikely-what all was done to him, it’s a conclusion he may draw. Or may not.

Depending on what color of red butt you’re aiming for, you could drop by one of the many paint stores where they will give you as many chips of whatever shade you want of the color you think might be about right. Also, he’s got two sides; Sometimes setting up a situation where one is one thing, the other less so, gives you the opportunity to, occasionally return to the side that can still be swatted-and it will be a surprize when you do. A flurry of slaps while okay, doesn’t lead him to where you want him which is...a semi-dread for the next blow. Even waiting ten minutes in dead silence, you can finger fuck yourself or whatever during the interval. What the hell, reach into the bag and pull out the first in a series of graduated dildos, the smallest of which could support a modest piano. Depending on your mood, putting various fluids on them not only eases their entry but, depending on what you’ve used, can provide you with an aural guide as to how effective they’re being in how he’s reacting to them. Basic oil is fine, and as an undercoat, why not, but Icy Hot or Fiery Pepper Salsa have an immediate as well as lingering effect on his interior walls. Again, you’ll enjoy his surprize when the first inklings of pain reach his mind. Combined with syncopated slaps, varying in intensity, you’re getting his nicely warmed up.

It doesn’t matter a damn but you’ve told him you like it rough. His answer , if there is one, doesn’t matter but it’s a moment of conversation that breaks his too awareness of the increasing pain to his back side.

Back to the suitcase. Doesn’t matter where you bought one, the style, material from which it’s made, they’re sold all over the place, time to reach between legs, get his cock pull it sharply back then….shove it into a chastity cage, the sort with a brass padlock. You have no interest in that-God knows you don’t want it in you- so putting it in ‘jail’ is a plan...and, like the dildos, drizzle some Hot pepper sauce again, makes the wearer more aware of their encasement….which he’s going to get to keep as a souvenir, brass and all. Still attached, just no key.

Anyone who confuses romance with sex and/or fucking isn’t dealing with a full deck or should be a permanent bottom hoping Prince Charming will find true love when his jizz flows into his ass. Neither you nor ‘Barry’ are under that illusion so it’s time for the one thing you want, the rough, hard fuck.

But first….from the suitcase come some metallic packages, the size sugar is served in when dispensed from a bowl. Notice, Two. Yeah, you cleaned him but shy of your being a Proctologist who could get into the deeper reaches, you don’t know what still might lurk there-lets put it this way, under a worse case scenario, a case of Clap would mean you got off easy-so time to rubber up. But two? Yeah. The first one which is denser than surgical gloves (having a pair of those isn’t a bad idea) could almost be hooked to sort of garter belt it’s going up that far. Over it, however, is all for ‘Barry’. This is the one that has studs in the elastic and these aren’t small nor are they really round. Slightly pointed plus not just a few, depending on the brand, you can have as many per square inch as you desire. Oh, cramped up on condom one is the reservoir. It’s not going to really catch anything but it came with one so….later….when you pull them off, you’re cum will have given your cock a skin treatment.

Move up one size in Dildo, this time, use the one that, at the tip, has an extension that goes just a bit further down. Some sharpen it, some don’t, your choice. The thing here is to work the insertion so every few seconds ‘Barry’ will think that’s far enough although you do not. Right about ten or so inches, he may whine….now it’s time for the gag. (Remember, if he refuses, hold his nose until he has to open his mouth to breath then in it goes.) I’m partial to the sort that looks like a horse bridle but every man will have there own preferences. Red rubber balls? Okay for beginners or amateurs but other than that, no. Oh, you can get the bridle can with an attachment that goes over the tongue which almost guarantees silence and, if you wish, that can have some very small spikes on the side that will press into the flesh. Just a suggestion.

Remember that suitcase? Your choice but for those with varying fetishes, could pull out a pair of silk hose, a pair of clippers to bald him, the sort of DIY ear piercing kits….there’s a lot of ‘Barry’ that is just laying there, unused, so, it’s up to you, why not try your hand at tattooing? Easy enough to write “Fuck Me” on his butt or something freehand on his back. Your choice or….don’t bother, just sit there, getting yourself good and stiff, pull the Lava Lamp so that your target is easier to spot, keep working yourself with one hand while picking up the rubber strap with the other to give his tail some additional swats-this should at least produce a few cracks where blood seeps out...which can be used as lube.

Okay, whether ‘Barry’ is ready or not, you are. Pull out the last dildo, lean over, let him feel your cock head juuuuust at the entrance. (If you want to surprize him, back to the suitcase, surgical gloves, give him a modified fisting...or just take a couple of fingers and screw him with those-just for confusion, stick the dildo back in working your fingers around it, make it uncomfortable.

Now right here we need to confront some realities that you need to accept. Not to leads to expectations that are deader than a eunuchs cock. A. ‘Barry’ is NOT some nice young lad from the country. B. You met him loitering near the bus station but there are many, many other places he might have been found. C. He doesn’t give a shit about you but then….you feel nothing for him, it’s better than way. D. Jesus Mother of God….do NOT suddenly feel ‘something’ for him, don’t decide to take him home, hell, don’t take him anywhere. What you should ‘feel’ for him is his prostate with your finger(s). Want to see him scared? Tell him you’re going to take him home, clean him up, educate him. Not only will he not know how to react but….his pimp, who you’ve not met but exists…will not be happy at losing merchandise. People have made this sort of idiot mistake which is the only reason I mention it.

Okay, stallion, here on, it’s up to you. Want to just fall into him taking you as far as you’ll go? Fine. Subtle insert, slapping his ass as your Johnson slides by? Terrific. There are only two absolutes here: You’re going to fuck him and he’s going to get fucked. Euclidean geometry couldn’t be simpler.

Once initial insert is made, how you work it until you’re blowing man milk in your condom is entirely up to you. Fast, slow, deep, quick, multiple inserts….fill in the blanks. Only thing you need to decide is how long you want to keep the ins and outs, ups and downs until you’re ready to shoot. And that’s the last decision: Rip off the rubber and paint his ass and back with it or….if you’re fond of yourself, pull up and out, gently peel back the first layer then, opening it slightly, ease that filled font of your best crème down until it’s available for your consumption. Yeah, I know some guys like to add to liquor or, this chokes me, beer, but it’s yours. Want to keep for later? Have a show and tell where you brag about your production? Tie the end tight remembering to keep the contents warm or you’ll have sperm Jello.

That’s it, take your chains back-leaving the cock lock on ‘Barry’. Quick exits are best so just pull on the minimum you need to get out the door and into the car leaving ‘Barry’ as has happened so often before, face down, fucked but with a fifty by the Lava Lamp. The lock and cage on him? Well, everyone should have a souvenir.

Oh, and as you leave, there is one final thing to say to your now used up piece of pleasure,

“Pretty good, Captain says a few more times and you’ll make bail….”

Drive carefully, wear your mask, plan ahead to the next time….maybe a specialty….