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I started to pull down my panties but he said no, wait. He told me to get on the bed on my hands and knees and I eagerly obeyed. Climbing on behind me he held his erection by its base and began rubbing the underside of my balls with his circumcised head. He asked me if the panty was silk.

I told him no, it was microfiber. He said it felt like silk.

I told him how good it felt, his cock rubbing against my pantied balls. The sensation was short-lived.

He pulled back and told me to take my panties off and get back in position. As I did so he began lubing up his cock. When I was back on my hands and knees he began rubbing his head against my hole without actually entering me. I told him once again how good it felt. He was toying with me, I realized. My heart was racing.

He entered me with just his head at first. Then he pushed about halfway in and stopped. After a pause he shoved all the way in. I was sure I could feel his pubic hair flush with my crack.

He asked me how many men I’d been with.

I told him lots.

He asked how many lots were.

I told him perhaps as many as a hundred, over the course of the past few years.

He asked if all of them had fucked me.

I laughed and said no, mostly it had been blowjobs.

Giving or receiving, he asked.

Giving, always, I informed him.

He asked if any of the hundred had fucked me.

I told him a few.

He wanted to know how many a few were.

I shrugged and told him a dozen. Maybe more.

He asked if they’d all worn condoms.

I told him truthfully, no. None of them had that I could remember. But then again, when in the receiving position, it was sometimes hard to know.

He asked me why. (He was still stationary inside me.)

Because it’s hard to see, I explained. For instance, I went on, I can’t see you.

But you saw me lubing up a minute ago, he challenged.

I know, I conceded. It’s different with you.

He wanted to know if all twelve guys had cum in me.

I told him as far as I knew they all had.

Pulling back, and beginning his motion in me, he asked if I liked it when guys shot their load in me.

I told him I did. It makes me feel complete, I said.

Complete how? (He was fucking me now.)

Like I’ve done my job, I explained. Fulfilled my role.

Your role as what?

A bottom. As the submissive in the relationship, I went on to say.

You call this a relationship, he asked.

It is as long as your cock’s inside me.

He laughed. He fucked me in silence for a moment. I was glad for this. Now I could concentrate on the pleasure his cock was giving me. Deep in me. The respite was brief.

He said I was roomy inside.

Roomy, I asked.

A big hole, he claimed. I expected you to be tighter.

It’s from all those other men you’ve fucked, he went on to say.

I started to tell him, but stopped, that I hadn’t been fucked in over a year. He read my mind.

When was the last time?

I told him.

Why so long, he asked.

Things dried up, I replied.

He asked me where I’d met all these other men. These hundred men.

On the sex personals, I explained. But then the government shut them down and things dried up.

He asked me, abruptly, if I’d ever performed sex acts for money.

Acts?

Been paid for sex, he replied. Blowjobs. A fuck.

I told him I had. I didn’t elaborate.

Strangely, he didn’t follow this up. We fucked in silence for another brief moment. All too brief.

He inquired if he was big enough for me.

I told him I loved his cock in me.

He said that’s not what I asked.

Thinking back to him calling me roomy inside, I told him his cock was just right for me. Just the right size.

He asked about his balls.

I told him he had a nice big pair.

He asked why I hadn’t sucked them, sucked his balls, if I liked them so much.

I was momentarily at a loss. I’d sucked his cock, lovingly, down on my knees, for what must have been fifteen minutes.

I reminded him I’d kissed them, his balls. I went on to tell him that next time, if there was a next time, I’d be glad to suck his balls. Gently of course.

He said why wouldn’t there be a next time.

My heart leapt. I was secretly thrilled. I told him I hoped there would be.

He told me he’d been looking for a regular ass to fuck. Someone local. Someone in his zone.

I told him I hoped it would be me.

He said maybe it will.

He began fucking me faster, harder. It was my body in motion now. His hands on my hips, gripping them, pushing me forward, into the pillows, pulling me back. It had become a thrill ride.

He told me he liked a big plump ass.

Well...

I didn’t know what else to say. Without any men in my life lately, I’d been letting myself go, putting on weight. Now, perhaps, counterintuitively, it seemed to be paying off.

It now felt like his penis, when all the way in, was up to my sternum. My beating heart. The base of my throat.

I felt my sphincter tightening. I felt an orgasm coming on.

Not the male kind. Not ejaculation (I was not hard). But what I could only assume was the female kind. The internal kind.

I’d experienced them before in the shower, with my largest dildo. My vibrator. But never with another man. Never before with a flesh-and-blood penis inside my rectum.

I cried out.

He told me to shut up. Spanked my right buttock, hard.

Shut up, he again told me.

I whimpered instead.

He explained that he didn’t want the neighbors to know. They see one man enter the apartment with another and the next thing they know...

...they’re hearing passion cries. A man’s voice.

I tried to explain that my neighbors weren’t home, they were at work, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

He spanked me again.

I liked it.

I urged him to spank me again. He did. He called me a sissy. A big sissy. He told me I deserved it.

The sound of his hand against my flesh, ironically, was as loud, if not louder, than my orgasm had been. Rather than gay lovemaking, if it had been heard, the neighbors might have thought I was being beaten in bed. Tied up and beaten. By a man in a blue uniform.

The spanking had interrupted his rhythm.

He got it back, however, and promptly declared he was about to cum.

Cum in me, I begged.

Shut up, he said.

He came silently, stoically for the most part, as he ejaculated his semen inside me.

I remained silent as well. Wondering, wishing. You never know.

He pulled out.

I looked around. I’ll go get a cloth, I said.

His cock was glossy, drooping. Beginning to.

Yeah, he agreed.

His tone was breathless. No, breathy. As if one of resignation.

As I wiped clean his cock he said to me, for some reason, I’m not paying you for this.

I didn’t expect you to, I smiled.

It beats being arrested, he said.

I had to agree. I nodded.

I followed him out into my livingroom, where his discarded uniform lay. Here, there.

I asked him if he wanted a drink. A beer.

He said no, he was on duty.

The last thing he put on was his heavy gun belt. He pulled it snug.

He advised me to signal my turns in the future.

And maybe not to wear flimsy drawstring pants. The material so thin you could see what I was wearing underneath.

I recalled now, again, after I got out of my car at his request, that he’d asked if I was a fairy.

I hadn’t replied. He insisted on patting me down.

Now, at my apartment’s front door, I wanted to kiss him. Kiss him on his thick, shaved neck. But I held back.

I held back because he would not have wanted it at this ambivalent moment. He had a wife and three kids at home. A wife who, after three kids he claimed, had lost all interest in sex. Sex of the anal kind anyway.

I’m not gay, he’d emphasized.

I asked if I’d ever see him again.

He laughed. He joked that I might, if I ever made an illegal turn again.

I offered to give him my number.

He said he had it. Had all my personal information.

Then he walked out the door and down the steps to his unmarked car.