A whore's life

I walked two blocks to the Candle Bar, a neighborhood gay bar. It wasn’t that crowded. I bought a whiskey, walked around, got my dick and ass groped several times and stood across from the pool table where two guys were playing. One was 40’s, bearded and burly, the other was medium height, somewhat muscular in his late 30’s, had a dark brown crewcut and a tough face like Roy Scheider’s. I got hard watching as he shot pool with a concentrated expression like I remembered my father had when he played. His weathered tight jeans showed off a large mound in front and there was a dark blue handkerchief in his back left pocket. I wanted him badly. He won the game, the other guy left, and two other guys started playing.

“Great game. I’m Patrick.” “Ray.”  “Can I buy you a drink?” He squinted at me. “Yeah, kid. A Bud.” I went to the bar and bought a bottle of Bud and gave it him. I also bought a bottle for myself.

“Thanks, but pretty boy cockteasers don’t do it for me. Boys who think they can take it and can’t.” I held my beer bottle up and practically deepthroated it as I took a sip. “I’m not a cockteaser.” I put my hand on his bulge and kneaded it. “I’m a cock pleaser and I can take this.”

“Oh, you’re a bad boy, going up to strange men in a place like this. You know what happens to bad boys?” Ray said in his tough voice with traces of Long Island. “Bad boys get punished. I live two blocks away. Punish me.”

Ray and I were kissing voraciously and had our hands all over each other in my living room. His body was so solid and warm. “Get your pants off” he hissed in my ear. I was now nude except for my T-shirt. He undid and took off his belt. He pushed me toward the couch, which I bent over. “This pretty boy ass is going to get punished!”

Oh! The sensation of my ass getting lashed by the leather strap of his belt. The pain and pleasure, my dick was so hard. I’ve never been in therapy, but it doesn’t take one to know that I enjoyed reliving the sensations of the beatings my father gave me as a child, especially from Ray who reminded me of my father. I occasionally got into S&M, and a good light beating did wonders physically and psychologically for me. Ray decided I’d had enough. I lay whimpering, bent over.

He twisted my T-shirt which now became a harness that he grabbed, forcing me to my knees. He was now nude. Whoa! I was always a great judge if a guy was hung, but I was taken aback. He really had a great slab of thick cut hard white meat that was definitely in the 8” range framed by a brown bush. All these years later what was so memorable was that Ray had the largest pair of balls I’ve ever seen on any man. They weren’t freakish, just huge. “Show me you’re not a cockteaser” he snarled, pulling my hair.

I opened my mouth so wide and took him in. I was buzzed from drinks and the thrills and gave him great head, stretching my mouth out to deepthroat his oozing rod. “Oh, yeah. Shit! You suck cock like a fucking whore! Is that what you are?! A whore!” “Yes sir, I’m a whore” I mumbled as best I could as my mouth was crammed with his cock.

I kept sucking him and working on his fabulous balls until he grabbed me by my T-shirt and raised me up. I led him to my bedroom and got in my bed near the edge on all fours, spreading my hole for him. He went for the nearby jar of Vaseline, greased us up. “Oh yeah, a whore like you can handle this. That hole is twitching to be fucked” he growled as he forced his log into my hole and began roughly fucking me from behind as held my T-shirt. It was earthshattering taking his thick 8 inches as he viciously pounded me out. “Nice, spreads wide open but still tight. Did you  get  fucked earlier?” “Yes!”  

My insides were so stuffed and soon I was cumming on the towel I had laid out beforehand. His grunting intensified as he blasted my innards with his heavy load. He pulled out, and he was now soft but still quite a sight. I was panting and my body tingled all over, having been beaten and thoroughly used. I knew Ray would be a great fuck and my sore ass proved it.

“You’re so beautiful, like a painting” Ray said as he held me in his arms. “You’d make a great slave. You’ll be taking a fist soon.” “I’ll be your slave, sir.” Ray worked as a deliveryman, driving a truck, delivering food to restaurants. “I’m just a working stiff, but here” he said, tossing a $20 bill on the night table. I would go on to see him every few weeks for years. I needed his belt and his cock, but NOT his fist, and he needed being with a boy who could take him.