Hours After the Bar Closes

2:44am

Fifteen minutes before last call ends, I am standing on the sidelines as a wingman to a black leather master getting sucked off by this light-skinned boy putting in his application to be his new slave.  The boy is on his knees, nervous as fuck, patiently bobbing his head back and forth on the beer-can wide prick.  The boy is no virgin by any means, giving blowjobs out on the dance floor like it was free candy to popping his jaw to accommodate awkward-shaped dicks like his.  This is the first time I have seen him and the only time I have seen him with a mouthful.  Yet there is this sort of je ne sais quoi feeling that rolls off his aura that suggest he is at home here.  Sated like a motherfucker.  The boy doesn’t need to be told twice to watch his crooked teeth on the foreskin or to work his tongue deeper into the piss slit.  The boy isn’t nervous the master won’t call him back for an interview.  He knows based on skills alone he will start first thing Monday morning.

The boy is nervous because he knows better than anybody it is against the rules to eye me, stroking my exposed dick while, at the same time, tending to his new boss.

2:49am

The black leather master starts to labor deep heavy breathing.  Nothing like I had ever heard, a cross between a sigh and a moan and a grunt.  His eyes are welded shut alluding to the fact he is sure to cum soon.

2:51am

Nothing ever cums and the boy upstage him with his loud slurping and these throat-gurgling ticks.

2:53am

My new master friend sighs and groans, grunts and moans and curses as he holds the back of the boy’s head.  The way he screeches he sounds like he let go of a half-gallon and laughs at the boy who can’t gulp it all down.

2:55am

The boy finish cleaning him up, even licking up the extra running out of the creases of his mouth.

2:56am

The boy rises to his feet in shame, not able to look at me or the leather man in the eye.

The leather man shoos him away with a twenty-dollar bill and sends him to buy our last round for the night.

The boy is out of earshot when the leather asks me what I think.  Before I am able to speak my peace, he informs me that he will be throwing him back to the “stroll” from which he came from.  When I ask why, the leather man states that he doesn’t tolerate disrespect of any kind, particularly from no whore.

“If he’s going to eye your dick while sucking on mine, he doesn't need discipline.  He needs a fucking orgy.

2:59am

The boy returns with our drinks.

3:01am

The boy is steadily eyeing me but tries to save face with the leather man by agreeing to drink his piss in the back.

3:13am

On the hunt for some action of my own.

3:21am

Think my search has ended with this doe-eyed Asian boy naively curious about the scene.

3:26am

I am spitting game and got him laughing.  I don’t want to come off like I’m just looking for a lay (though it wouldn’t hurt).

3:29am

The boy tries to intervene.  It is obvious the leather man gave him his walking papers shortly after taking a leak across his face.

3:39am

Agreed to get the cute Asian boy to join me for coffee and doughnuts from around the way.  His bitchy friend, whom he rode with isn’t too keen on leaving him with a stranger.  Totally understandable.  I invite him to tag along, too.  My treat.  He is adamant in his response, making up some lame story about heading off to work in a few hours.  The Asian boy wants to tell his friend he’ll be okay with me, but instead vouches to give me his number.  His friend is still mean-mugging me like I done him wrong.  I check the memory bank to see if I have.  He doesn’t register in my mind, leaving me to believe that he is either looking out for his friend or looking to be his lover one day in the near future.

3:45am

Try to track down piss boy, thinking if he likes it in the face he might love it up the ass.

3:53am

The bar is about to close, not having any luck finding some luckless runt to follow home.

4:06am

Out in the parking lot catching up with some old friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I keep my eyes out for some straggling prospects, only to spot the weird loner and the ugly mofo that you gave dick to when you were piss drunk and somehow thinks that you’re his boyfriend.

4:16am

A little tired heading towards the expressway home.  My horniness overrides it, though.  I know there’s somewhere out there in the city is two fleshly mounds that have my name in the groove of its valley.  Where?

4:34am

My dick is already hard.  Been so ever since I made up my mind that this is the place I am going to get my “release.”  It is harder than ever, eager in anticipation.

Aside from the bulge in my pants, I have to play it cool.  I think about baseball to cool it down.

Bad idea, bats and balls.

Basketball.

Another bad idea, a sport that condones men for dribbling balls.

Football.

Let’s not even go there.

My dick dies at the thought of ballet and orchestra, and anything else that is not macho, manly.  Perfect!

It gives me enough cool to make my entrance into the coffee lounge of the bathhouse.  Giving men that had came before me a reason to smile and men about to leave time to reconsider.

4:52am

I move from the lounge down to the locker room where I am shamelessly followed by a handful of men with stiff sticks and humid holes.  I indulge them all by walking slowly.  Though my firm full ass is never used, it is a grand muscular tease.  Perhaps, second only to my swinging piece it is the kind of serious thrust I put behind each and every one of my fucks.

4:56am

I barely get my shirt off before I am approached by the muscularity of a hairy daddy that introduces himself as ______________.  He is a well-built, sexy-ass mofo with a very thick accent.  He can be Russian or Ukrainian or whatever other country over there ends in “stan.”  Not even for a white, but for a man in general, he is equipped with some amazingly mean dick, strutting around naked like he is cock of the walk.

He is jonesin’ for some young black booty, but I politely decline without starting an international or racial incident that my preference is for myself.  Letting him know that I would happily swim in his sloppy seconds and would be honored if he swam in mine.

5:01am

I finally get all my clothes off and stuff them in a locker.  My first reaction is to find my room and leave my locker room key in there.  That is too obvious, I reason, choosing to head to the showers and wash away the bar with this complimentary soap and sponge.

5:09am

I notice that I got a couple of admirers watching me in the showers like I am an endangered species.  

I am eager to ignore them.

They are not my type and are too Mandingo happy, giving out stage whispers that they wish there Little Red Riding Hood and I was the BIG BAD WOLF with the HUGE BLACK COCK that would ravish them in the woods.

5:12am

I decide to play into their fantasy.

I figure if they’re just going to stand there and watch might as well give them a show.  I cover myself from head to toe with suds and began stroking my soapy dick.

5:14am

Motherfucking minutemen! I thinking wanting to laugh but settle a “gotcha” smile.

The two of them came like fire hoses on the tile floor below them.  Spent all that damn money to get in and at the end had to do it for themselves.

5:17am

I climb out of the showers still laughing at those lame motherfuckers as they have long disappeared back to the front, probably to ashamed to come back.

5:19am

I move to my room through the semi-darkness draped in my white towel peeking through the various doors along the way.  The first two doors were empty.  Another was filled with sex in the oral form and another of the anal kind.  And in between them is a skinny-mixed guy in a room with a huge neon green jelly dong surfing up the crack of his ass.  He is lying on his stomach with his head in his arms looking the other way like he didn’t give a shit that came in.

I pass on the offer and head to my room.  Too many guys are standing around.  One of them has got to make a move.

I get quite comfortable in my room equipped with the works: a television laced with several channels of porn, a luxurious supply of condoms and lube and disposable enemas.

5:23am

Regret not wearing my double-thick black rubber cockring.

5:26am

Realize that I have been here an hour and no action.

5:29am

Scan the other rooms on the other side of mine naked and hard.  Tempted by the many willing choices in between, including two very attractive black dudes.  One being this gorgeous brick-colored dude with a remarkably trimmed goatee and a high bubble butt pretending to drift off to sleep.  Yeah, right.  The other is the manila-colored dude lubed up and stroking off to the deafening loud porn pulsating out of his room.

I am going berserks! I can’t decide! Men of color are all that uncommon here yet it isn’t all that common either.  Two fairly decent-looking black men with some masculine presence are like finding a diamond in the rough and gold in the raw.  In spite of this conundrum, something in my head told me to check on the guy with the crowded doorway.

5:32am

Sure enough, nobody had the balls to venture in.

A bunch of pussies! Knowing my history, I know men who fuck men had to use codes and a dark alleyway just to break off a nutt.  Give them a dark and seed bar with a leg to get away with something they will jump on it like brown on natural rice.  Give him a bit of light and they want to act all scared.

I don’t even have to barrel on through.  They part for me like they had been waiting all night, like a king making an entrance, fueling my already larger-than-life ego.

The man in the bed with the foot-long dildo meticulously placed riding between his mounds turns around to look at me as I close the door.  He seems not to be impressed, turning his head back to the wall.

I have been around the block too many times to know that it his front.

“Pull the shade down,” he mutters in a silky soft but masculine tone.

“What, no show?”

“No.”  He pauses.  “What time is it?”

“Five-thirty.”  I say, pulling down the window shade.

“They’ve been gawking since two-thirty.”

He turns his head back to the door.  He thinks that I am in eyesight when in fact I am at the foot of the bed looking at this green monster lying lazily across the entire length of his crack.

“Can you blame ‘em?”

“Don’t tell me, they’re afraid of a jelly dildo?”

“Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf?  Most are afraid of fucking with the real thing, and most don’t even come close in size,” I say.  “Except for me, of course.”

“And you’re special?”

“Of course,” I say rummaging through the drawer for some lube.”

He tries again to look at my package as I find an extra clear bottle of lube next to the dildo.

“Nice,” he says with my dick in his face.

“Suck.”

5:45am

He lifts himself up, and past his lips like a fish and gulp me in like water.  He seems at a loss.  His mouth is dry.  He tries to get the top of it wet with his tongue, and then brings his lips into the fold to caress it.

If I still had my pants on, I could offer him a Jolly Rancher.

He, however, doesn’t need it, making good use of the friction.  I can’t move in and out.  I can move back and forth, bringing about this weird sensation.

It doesn’t feel like I’m close to cumming.  It just feels like the bone my vibrating legs got an inch.  I just can’t scratch.

5:58am

Remembers he got a dildo and an ass that needs to be played with.  Reach over to feel his ass.

His has one of those that look dense from afar but doughy as hell in reality.  Made for kneading bread, meaning that it’s definitely “pushin’ for the cushion.”

6:01am

He likes.  His dick sucking becomes much more invigorated, and I haven’t even bothered to play within the crease.

For a big black guy, I have big black hands which mean I have big black fingers.  My last fuck didn’t call ‘em then that though.  He said finger were too human for me.  He called them digits.  Big black motherfucking digits! Attached to a motherfucking mitt.

I stoke around Ground Zero, tingling the fine hairs and the crease leading down to the bottomless abyss just to find out that the fucker is well-lubed.

I go in, slipping in a digit and barely get back a knuckle.  I slip in two digits.  He smugly looks back, as if to ask ‘was that the best I could do?’ A couple of strokes against his fat little hotspot, he is trying to muffle his gasps and groans with my dick.  

6:08am

He plays it cool, not at all suspecting that I am just a finger away from freeing his inner bitch.

“AhhhhHHHH!” He screeches, letting my dick fall out of his gorgeous mouth.

“So there’s the charm?” I offer calmly.

He hits high notes and low notes and notes only the prissy of dogs can hear.  I don’t even care anymore.  His ass lips are like quicksand to my digits and they forgot how to stay calm.

“That’s feels like a big dick right there, doesn’t it?”

He squirms beneath my digit whimpering and partying like an injured dog.

“Oh, c’mon, my fingers up your ass ain’t nothing compared to the freak-down you’re about to give this dildo!”

I pull my finger out, watching his gaping hole slowly close shut.

“Uh-un,” I say to it as it is about to close up.

I quickly pick up the foot-long jelly dong by its half heavy balls.  The only part of it that isn’t lubed and fill his slightly resistant hole to the brim in one very violent, very brilliant stroke.

6:22am

I hold it in place, crushing is balls against his for one solid minute listening to him expel all his demons.

6:23am

I pull it straight on out.

He is no longer wincing or mistaking it for a wrestling match trying to tap out. His raises his legs relax beneath him as his hold collapses like a loud fart.

He wants to spit in my face and curse me and my mama out.  He is unable to for several reasons.  Pain and my size inflicting more pain being two of them.  The one that holds dear, the only one that matters, is truth.

Before he stepped foot in the building, he was just a fuckee wanting to test out his brand-new toy.  He wants to be bitched and whored like some of his size queen buddies had over exaggerated.  Real was too real for him, so he figures what a better way to get notches on his belt that to get dildo-fucked in a bathhouse.  How often does that happens? Besides, rubber gives to road, surely flesh in more accommodating.

Boy, oh boy, how he got his wish!

The stories he is going to tell are going to make tem ‘ohh’ and ‘ahh’ each time he tells them.

Above anything else, I am most certain of this.  Even the hungriest of pig bottoms in not going to supply a complete stranger a license to shove a large foreign object up their ass.  Sure, forever every masochist there was an equal sadist.  But even the hugest dicks eventually come, a manufactured one never does.

“Geez, take it easy man!” He says trying to muster up some anger in his voice amidst the pain.

Likes it? No, no.  He is fighting hard to keep it all in his skin.  He loves it!

“Cum-sucking dong sluts like you don’t have much say so in the matter.”

6:29am

He takes a very deep breath and let it all out, with the head of the dildo rubbing over his greased puckered hole.  It becomes apparent after a few trees that this nameless fuck isn’t keen for foreplay, sucking in the tip of the big-headed dildo with nothing more than his sphincter.

“Take it easy? Fuck! Seems to me I was taking it way too easy!”

He thinks he can beat me to the punch, thinks that I am going to run ram it into his chute again as he begins pumping feverously back against his powerful dildo.

“Hungry-ass motherfucker, ain’t you?”  I say, watching his ass try to devour the dildo in these freaky gyrations.

He doesn’t understand that just like the dick flanked by my legs, I am very much in control of the one of the other side of my mitts.  Instead of inch by inch, he should be eternally grateful for every centimeter he receives, taking whatever I give him.

He still continues to be hardheaded, thinking he will get the dildo in his own time.  So I prove my point by viciously popping out the length of the dildo to counter his winding bucks, leaving his hole to gape open and talk aback demanding to be filled again.

“Looks like your hole needs this dick, don’t it?”

He instructively shoved back hoping that his real ass will catch on the fake dick.

“Yeah,” he moans once he accepts that I am playing keep away with it, bouncing it from one greasy cheek to the other.

“Yeah, what.”

“Yeah, sir,” he says.

“I would’ve accepted Dick master or Dick God, but sir’s cool.”

“Yes,” he says as I rub it at the top of his crack, lowering his body back down to the bed.

He is letting me know that he is ready to be put down.

“No, sir,” I say to both.  “Keep that skinny ass up.

He obliges, waiting on his prick to fill him again with lube oozing out of his hole down to his balls.

I start etching down from the top of his crack to the budding crater that was once high tight hole, plunging him again with the dildo.  He groans and squirms and wails and moans and creates other noises that are not human, as his hole is being stretched open.  His dick hangs heavy and hard between his legs, thrusting him between heaven and hell and tries to find some middle ground in between.  He is suffering from this amuck because the last stubborn ring in the nether region of his hole will not succumb.

I push forward anyway though, through his screaming pain to his mumbling pleasure and back again.  I snake it in further and deeper and harder and faster, twisting it and jamming it in until his sounds mirrors my ever-changing mood.

At the rough speed I am going my arms should be exhausted, my mitts cramped, but they aren’t.  I am too enthralled with the dildo vanishing into the abyss to care about anything else.

“Don’t run from it, fool.”  I say smiling as he scoots up the bed attempting the separate his battered ass from the pounding dildo.  “I got you so wide open I’m thinking about directing traffic through your ass.”

He is so open that it is ridiculous.  Practically next to nothing is stopping the balls of the jelly dong from disappearing up his ass, too.  He lets out all his excitement and angst through his mouth while his body starts trembling wildly.

“Got that shit up in you now!”

“Oh, God,” he yammers.

“Oh, Goddamn is right.  I ain’t finished with you yet.  Keep your hands on the board.  Not only am I going to cum without jacking off, I’m going to make you shoot just from the memory of it.”

He might be confused but understands enough to keep quiet.  He grabs a hold of the headboard tighter cursing the saints and expelling the demons.

“You’re a real-live slut, ain’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he sobs.

“You’re a pussy-ass slut.”

“Yeah,”

“Then taking all this dick is nothing to a slut like you, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” he breaths.

“No,” I correct.  “A bitch-ass pussy slut like you is already taking a limousine worth of dick already.”

“It isn’t real,” he huffs.

“It isn’t?  Didn’t it open you up like one?  Make you spread your legs open like a 7/11?  24/7?  365 days a year and 52 weeks?  I can go on?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh, what?”

“Dick Master…uh-huh, Dick Master. ”

“See, you just admitted it.  It’s real dick forcing its way up your sweet, sugar-coated ass, invading you like you never have been invaded before! It is the only dick in the world that s made to satisfy a bitch in heat like you!”

“Oh,” he groans as I once again slam it hard back into him.

“It’s the only one in the world that is hungry for a sloppy slutty hole like yours as you are for big dicks.”

He winces a bit, taking my words in at the same rate he is taking it, fast and hard.

“And the beautiful thing about it is that it’s my dick.  My big dick is the one that is making mush out of your sweet hole.  Ruining you for every other man that comes after me.”

“Oh, God,” he howls.

“Damn, right,” I say.  “I can open the door and let every…fuck…takes a crack at this ass and you’ll still be numb next to this one, my one. ”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“You’ve been fucked you slut.”

“Oh,” he goes again.

“You pussy-ass bitch.”

“Oh, God,” he stammers over and over and over again.

He is close to the edge.  Time to make my move.

To get him to cum with no assist, without touching himself is nothing more than a good massage to the prostate.  To make him cum with absolutely nothing poking him but the memory of it sounds like some cold pimp shit.

Something I just heard about it up to this point, but something that I know that is possible.

I begin leveling off the strokes I leveled off in his ass, taking my time to be meticulous in probing the exact spot of his prostate.  Not the roundabout area, but the center of his orgasmic universe.

His norm changes, becoming something else altogether, something that is hard to describe yet easy to get.

I can tell he is enjoying it and doesn’t want it to end, using one hard to spread open his cheek as he tries desperately to balance himself with the other hand.  

I let him right this nirvana for a moment longer, savoring every tickling stroke.  My primal urge soon takes over, battering his already bothered butthole with relentless force zeroing in to this one particular spot.  Even then his loud sputtering sobs are different, and much more at peace.

I am so caught up in the breathing up front that I almost fail to pay attention to what is in front of me, watching his balls drastically clamming up at the same moment his hard dick swells even bigger.  And with a few more concise pumps I pull the monster dong straight out of his hole.

At first, my blood rises in disappointment, knowing that I bought him close enough to the edge for him to let go of a nutt.  I am not looking for Niagara Falls, just a measly squirt of that.  My hopes soon renews with him throwing it back, still on the receiving end of his beautiful dick.

But in a strange twist of fate, he starts gripping louder than ever before, bucking the raw humid air wildly as he strains his legs over again to brace himself for more.

The next thing I know he strains his voice in a silently audible scream that ends with a long ropey mess spewing from between his legs.  The initial jet barrels out in a violent rush to the bed beneath him while the rest drips out thick and slow like maple from a tree.

The amazing part about it all isn’t that I got him to nutt pure from the memory of getting fucked.  It is that the sticky slim didn’t not spurt from over here to over there.  It is that it stays one long continuous ribbon that in the end stretches about two feet respectively.

“That was fucking hot.”  I say.

“Yeah,” he breaths, “your turn.”

7:39am

He offers to help me cum.  

I decline.

I feel that just busting a nutt to the backdrop of our steamy rendezvous will ruin what we worked so hard to accomplish.

His nutt was special.  In comparison, I knew mine will not.

I can tell in his voice he wants to thank me properly; he wants me to stay, but I have something else on my mind.

7:42am

I open up the window blind and leave his room to an even larger crowd standing outside of his door with there dicks out.  Unlike before, where I was welcomed like royalty, I am ignored, having to fight my way out as every man around looks at him with his ass up and dildo fully impaled in his ass.  

His thanks to me.

7:44am

I am back in my room, still relishing in my accomplishment as I pick up a white town and head off to the sauna for the Sunrise Breakfast.  

The cashier raved about it earlier.

It is the hours between six and eight when the bathhouse opens its door to the patrons for free.

The cashier went on to tell me that it was second only to the late evening rush, champion in by chained-by-the-balls men and hounds too lazy to cruise, that business professionals come in for their news and “morning brew. ” He gave me fair warning that by me being, black, articulate, and built like a Titan that could be the toast of the town or very well taken care of in the wallet by some corporate bastard that knees to be taken down a peg or two.  

Since, originally, I wasn’t planning on staying this long, might as well find out.

  

8:02am

On my fifty try of going back there; I stick my head in the sauna to find a full house.  It is so crowded back there it isn’t funny.  Under any other circumstances, I should stick out like a lighthouse in a corn field.  This goes around, I am just a sprinkle on top of a berry-flavored smoothie filled with tattooed villains and twinks, pierced bad boy muscled daddies.  Stroking off in one corner, blowing off in another.  Even my hairy Russian friend from earlier is tagging the ass of the black boy that was jogging off to the loud porn while many drape towels over their face and used the rooms for its original purpose.  Race isn’t even a factor, looking at the Rainbow Coalition that it covered, white and black and brown and yellow and red with a couple of albinos.

8:09am

Hate to say it.  Boy, am I wrong!

The rooftop is covered with mostly decent-bodied naked men.  A good part of the extended multicultural population is sitting around taking a sunbath and looking on as the other half is somewhere in the middle putting a new spin on an old game, going from sitting on one hard dick to another in a free-for-all smorgasbord.

8:12am

I am propositioned by this skinny older black many standing nearby.  He is about sixty plus years old.  He is older looking without exactly looking his age.  Thought it isn’t a big secret, even with a full head of silver-blue hair.  In a former life he could have been a dancer of sorts, still firm and sporting a Prince Albert proudly in his lounge chair.  Everything but his face is handsome, so his strong conversation isn’t enticing.  And being that he breaths money and talks money, puts me off at the same rate as his condescending tone to my youth and muscular build.

8:19am

I try easing away from him without telling him off.  I refuse to come off like the ass he is.  He has a full patent on that.  However, he becomes much more intriguing by the second with the arrival of his new naked friend.

He too is about sixty plus and black and in fairly good shape.  But the comparisons end there.  Whereas his asshole of a friend is on the thin and trim side, he has a round face and plump solid muscular body that is almost frightening.  He doesn’t’ have beach muscles like most of the gym bunnies up here.  His is toned from years of plowing the fields and picking cotton in the ways of the Old Deep South.  Ways he tries to shed by shaving his head and growing this thick gruff handlebar moustache and goatee that hangs and an inch or four off his chin.  Looking like he is more at home on a motorcycle gang than any place else.  Even his full tattooed belly is muscled and narrows down to a comely v-Shape I try not to look any further down than that, but it is hard not to.  His thighs are enormous.  They were made for bucking.  What is flopping down between then isn’t bad either.  Even through the eyes of a confirmed top it is incredible.  I mean, he has the stuff the most insatiable size queen would never dream of.  Something that is as thick as a painter’s wrist and almost as long as his forearm too.  Talk about hung!

8:23am

He tries to engage me in conversation.  His friend, his suspected lover, continues to interject.

When his friend turns away, he mentions me over to the edge of the building to where he is heading.

8:27am

I have no problems admitting that though he is significantly older than me, but at least a couple of scores, I am very much attracted to him.  Lustful, yes.  It is so much more than that, though.  Wordlessly he makes me feel comfortable because he is comfortable with himself.  He has no reason to advertise his hard masculinity, it just is.  It is him and he is it.  He is an all-natural, slightly hairy man that enjoys the company of other men, naked.  He does a great job of being him, being natural such, a rare treat in this world, that I forget apart of my fear of heights standing next to him near the retainer wall, as he smiles at me with a cup of orange juice in his mitts.

“So,” he starts off.  His voice is a deep baritone laced with enough bass that it is solid and firm without straining of harshness.  “New?”

“No,” I lie.

“I meant to the decade,” he jokes.

He engages me deep in conversation, as if we were both in a business conference instead of in our birthday suits.  

My dick as hard as a rock to the sound of his voice and the words that comes out of it.

The sex card is not playable, I reason mournfully in my head.

There is no way he is bottoming for me.  He has a dick that he wants to use, and even if I am willing to give it up for to him, for the first time, out of pure respect, he is just too big to even consider it the back or in the front.

I am so revved up about him because he is me, everything I am and want to be.

I want to kiss him.

I want to hold and kiss him.

It might mislead him into thinking that I want more than that, and I don’t want to be a fuck-tease.

Our eyes lock.

It isn’t the first time.  It is just different, more intense like predator to prey.

“You look…tense.”  He says.

“I am.”  I confess.  “Standing so close to the edge isn’t making me feel any more comfortable.”

 

Good save!

“Afraid of heights.”

“Yeah,” I say flustering with embarrassment letting this other big, tall, dark man know I have a fear.

“Do you feel comfortable with me?”

“Yeah,” I say honestly.

“Let me try something with you to help you get over your fear.”

I gulp, not deciphering whether or not he is sincere or if he is game at trying something else to get me over my fear.

He deliberately walks behind me, brings his arms around my stomach tightly with his pulsing dick pressing against my back.

I try to breathe regularly, but I am turned on by him and slightly afraid I am going to shit on him as he walks me closer to the edge.

“You feel I got you?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Open your eyes.”

My eyes were open.  I just wasn’t looking up or down but across the interior edge of the roof.

“Look ahead,” he adds.  “Straight ahead.”

I didn’t want to come off as a punk, so I did.

“You’re looking ahead?” He asks.

“Yeah,” I breathe.

“Look down.”

I do, and quickly the ground gets further away causing me to get dizzy.

I start to push back, but he is stronger, standing his ground.  I want to tell him to move but it occurs to me that I don’t know his name.

Stupid fuck!

I am so enraptured by this guy, comfortable with him and feel he is trustworthy, and I don’t know his fucking name!

“Steady now, Arnell’s got you.”

Good.  Arnell.

“Just keep on looking down, feel my arms around you.  I’m a strong man with strong arms.  Worked about two of your lifetimes before you even stepped out on the world.  You ain’t going nowhere.”

9:12am

He held me close.  My fear is not far from game.  It is just subsiding, tossing me between my fear and his arms.

He must be getting tired holding me like this.  I am no small man, not some delicate flowers.  I am man made from steel.  This brilliant thing he is too.

I don’t want to insult him by asking him to let me go, because I want neither, but the morning is passing and he looks like a busy man.

9:19am

“How do you feel up there?”

“Good.  You?”

“Good.”

9:22am

His arms are tight around me.  They always have been yet they seem to do more.  Subtly, but more.  They do not roam my hard muscles flesh as much as they seem to stroke one area or another, letting me knows he was still there.

I am unsure of what to make of it all.  I don’t want to jump to conclusion.  I am even more confuse when his dick stirs against one of my mounds slowly etching it way to my crack.  Is this intentional?  It is a part of his routine phase of morning wood?

My questions resolve once the scruff of his chin brushes up against my shoulder and his warm face breathes onto my neck.

“This was the master plan?”

“Shit yeah.  I can’t have you afraid of heights when I’m about to teach you how to fly.”

“Oh, shit.”

9:26am

I lean my head away from his mouth, giving him more access to my neck as he begins kissing it slow and seductive like.

His arms are crossed just beneath my pecs.  His callous fingers begin to thumb my pointy nipples.  He knows how to work them.  And as much as I try, I cannot stop the gasps from coming out of my mouth.

I am in hot heat, panting and waiting on his next move as the sun kissed my face.  I am anxious, he is patient.  The paradox of our age group, something that escapes me for a moment but never alludes me.  My greatest embarrassment is to come off as a young buck that needs to be tamed by a hard strong woof.  I know from experience that those feats are golden, feeding to the ego more so than the sexual appetite.

I remember to breathe.  Barely catching my breath in time to feel his hand slip down to my hardened sex and the other to the side of my waist.

“I bet you bust open a lot of assholes with this thing, huh young buck?” He says taking his hand and stroking my dick.

“Yes, sir.”  I say out of respect.

“When I was your age, I busted a few wide open, too.  My favorite of all was this cat name Jon.  H was unassuming just like you.  Hard and masculine front of everybody.  Once I got him alone thought, he let me get up in it whenever I had the dick and grease to do so.  Most times I didn’t even need that.  His shit just melted like butter every time I slid home.”

He licks my earlobes following a series of kisses along my neck.  The wet of his mouth with the warmth of his breath over it causes another moan to escape from my lips.

“I bet that ass is sweet just like his.”  He murmurs.

I do not respond.  I just breathe deeply.

His dick is getting hard dripping wildly with precut with a trail right down the center of my crack.  His dick follows from top to bottom.  He feels so damn good, so damn right every time he passes my spot that taking my last stand here is crossing my mind.

“Damn, that hose is springing a leak, old man.”  I laugh playfully.

“Old man?” He pauses.  “A tight tender like you needs all motion lotion to manage all this.”

I think to say something smart but I choose not to.  His is a raging bull and I am no bullfighter.  I am a bull.  A calf to him.  A young bull, at that, eager for a challenge to prove myself, knowing that an old bull like him like to prove he still got it.

I am making up my mind to let him do it or not, and the more he rubs it pass my hole the more I want to let him do it.

I quickly change my mind now that he rubs the enormous head against my backdoor.  I want to scream that I am a virgin back there.  It isn’t like I am lying.  It is the complete and utter truth.  But to tell him that is like handling him an invitation to pop my cherry, etching him into my memory for all my eternity to remember.

“Got that shit on lock like Fort Knox.  Good boy.”  He whispers soulfully in my ear.  

I feel that the danger is over.

“Don’t be ashamed of getting it wet for Big Daddy.  Just make him work hard to get it open.  That way when he gets that shit he can claim that shit. ”

He begins stroking my dick soft and slow.

Using his plump pinky to knock my balls together, he asks, “Tell me, my dear boy, when was the last time you fucked somebody?”

“About a couple of hours ago.”

“It feels so full.”

“I wasn’t the one having sex.”

I explain to him the events that transpired with the man in the room with the dildo, lacing every intimate detail.  He listened intently; firmly stroke me, asking me certain questions as he comes off of my shoulder.  He tries to be subtle, repositioning his spit slick pipe underneath my butt crack and between my bulky tights, using his pinky to lift up my loose nutt sac so it can run under mine.  

I am amaze at how good he feels s.  Right there.  Even better than once I squeeze my thighs around him.  He starts bobbing it in and out as if he is really fucking me with tenderness and care.

My mind briefly forgets my fear of heights and everyone else standing around on the rooftop.  I want to tell them all that I am not being fucked.  It just looks that way.

My youth, my prideful youth, my stabling establishment needs to solidify my budding dominance in this world, not my submission to succumb.  Moreover, the fear that others might think I can take a man so huge on a whim.

9:57am

I no longer give a flying shit about what these motherfuckers think.  We are no longer on speaking terms much less speak the same language.

I am slick with his spit and cum.

More of the latter than the former.

The friction of this combination along with skin must be good do him.  Because all I hear from the back is him huffing and puffing.

10:02am

My breathing soon mimics his.

I have somehow managed to bend over to view the streets below with my hands bracing against the edge.

He causes me to gasp each passing stroke against my prostate passing underneath my raised sac and the crevices on the side.

10:14am

He is so lost in himself using my body this way that he forgets about me, the man behind the thighs.  

If we were truly fucking, I would be nothing more than a hole to his big black pipe.

10:20am

He remembers me again.

10:21am

He consciously pokes roughly at my prostate until it is sore with heat and raw with pleasure, leaving me sticky with his mess.

10:23am

He raises me upright, cuffing my neck.  His kisses are dry and brief along the way, trailing along the jaw back to the nape.  He begins to seductively stroke my dick and with his mouth in my ear he asks, “When was the last time you use this thing?”

10:24am

“The night before last.”  I respond releasing a gasp at my own leaky mess coming from his firm, forgiving strokes.

“Tell Big Daddy about it.”  He commands.

I gathered my mind, trying to remember how did it go from just words to just sex?

“Nothing special,” I suggest.  “It was just a fuck and a nutt.”

“If you’re doing it right it’s never that simple.  “He barrels softly in my ear.

“True.”  I concede.  “Where I come from there are always guys hanging out at all times of the night.  This night was no different for me making my way home.”

His stroking me becomes much more controlled.  The sun and his heat are starting to get to me with the memory of that night and that that happened not too long ago.

“Go on.”

“As you can see I’m a nice-size guy.”

“A beast,” he compliments.

“If I ever have to, I can hold my own.  But since I was born and bred in the same neighborhood I grew up, and have no beef with anybody, it never had to come to that.”

“So you feel safe there?”

“Relatively from everyone except the police.”

“Aren’t they there to serve and protect?”

“Some do.  Most do more harm than good.  Then there is the lame, Andre, who worked the graveyard shift.  He doesn’t do nothing except sit in his squad car and get off looking at dudes standing on the corner with their pants sagging down.”

“Maybe he’s patrolling?”

“Hell, no,” I say.  The roughness of my neighborhood begins seeping out.  “Patrolling is patrolling.  Sitting there in your squad car with a hard-on admiring the stalking man.  Plain talking.  He's done it for as long as I’ve known him.  Got his ass whip over it a few times.”

“At least he’s persistent.”      He murmurs low and sexy.

“Now that he can hide behind his badge, he is a fucking untouchable! Licking his chops every time he was something good.  Damn near frothing at the mouth when some dude got a dick worth gripping.  And it ain’t like you can tell that bitch to fuck off.”

“Not without trying to put you in handcuffs…thought I think that would be a goal.”

“Of course,” I continue.  “It ain’t like he wouldn’t like to say something too.  But seeing that the curfew only applies to those under the age of eighteen, he can’t say shit to all these grown men.”

“So everyone is at an impasse.”

“Exactly.  Anyway, between where I have to come from and when I need to go is a thick wooded area.”

“A cut?”

“Yeah,” I say with his lips now behind my ear.  Because there isn’t’ like a lot of places that are open and nearby, the only place around that Andrew can take his bathroom break is in The Cut.

“I was on my way home when I saw him unzip, taking a leak.  I wasn’t afraid of him or anything.  I just thought I would stay back, do what it do, and proceed after he was done?”

“Why?”

“It isn’t like it’s cool to roll up on somebody taking a piss.”

“Is that it?    Sounds like there’s a back story to me.”

“Well, the last time the two of us were face to face was when my boy and I jumped him in the bathroom and used his clothes to sort of kind of stopped up the pee around the urinals.  He was joined as Piss Boy for a long time.  Et that never stopped him from doing what he does.

“At any rate,” I exhaled with his kisses firm a strong around my collar.  “I came across Piss Boy, taking of all things, a piss.  When the arch started to trail I thought he was going to bounce back to his car.”

“No,” he says taking his free hand and begins playing with my nipples.

“No,” I breathe.  “He started jacking off looking at the fellas under the night.

“Sounds to me like there’s no surprise there.”

“Not at all.  Probably been doing it all along.  Probably took the job and the beat because of it.  I don’t’ know, it was just weird seeing it.”

“Violated makes you feel violated.”

I shake my head and speak, “Never that, I just thought since there was another hole in this neighborhood I could fuck.  I should’ve been informed.

He laughs deep but not long.

“Tell me more,” he says, moving his playful hand from my pecs to palming my jaw.”

“To me at the time, it looks like he was fucking with my way home.  So, I was piss with that.  The way was jagging it was more like he was feeling himself rather than busting a nutt.

“It became ridiculous after a while.  So much so that I wasn’t even thinking about fucking and I was thinking about popping his lame ass just for the hell of it”.

“Watch do?”

“I started throwing anonymous stuff off the ground at him, thinking he would take his happy-ass and leave.  He was a persistent mofo.  I waited awhile, and then went over there to him.”

Bold.”  He says with his hand back down over my check and rubbing my shoulder.

“Nah, it wasn’t like I stormed him like when “rapists attack” or something.  I pretended like he was just in my way as I quickly I made my way home. ”

“He must have been startled. ”

“Of course, more embarrassed than anything else, reaching down and drawing his gun.”

“Which one?” He says focusing more on my dick.

“The real one.  The one he was playing with wasn’t even a gun.  It was a chopped-ff pencil with something more than a stubby eraser, if you know what I mean?”

“Must’ve been scared?”

“For a second…but he was too clumsy with it, like Barney Fife.  Still, though, I respect the game with my hands up because he might be clumsy enough to shoot.

“Look, man, I was just rolling though from the bus stop home.  I tell him.

“He starts spitting some police mumbo jumbo.  Most of it sounded legit, at first.  If it started to sound like he was just rambling some nonsense.  Like a crazy clueless person.  The, it hit me, after something he said, I can’t remember what exactly, but was sort of like a red flag in my head that he was waiting on somebody to roll through.  I’m not saying it was me since I wasn’t the only one with a late-night schedule that came thorough there.

“’C’mon, man’” I say, “’no reason to pull out a god for the pistol.’

“Instead of calming down, Ron got fired up bitching up something that he wasn’t’ a fag and that he had a girl from around the way.  I straight up told him that he was crying like a faggot and the way he was eying dudes hard he was on.  Go ‘head and admit it.  And lets not forget the proof is in the pudding—his whole life.  He threatens to shoot if I didn’t ‘shut the fuck up.’    Even his cussing sounded heavy on the sweet side.  I kindly reminded him that if he shout me in The Cut so close to the front where nobody could see us, his little adoring fan club might think it was an attack on them and shoot blindly into the woods.  Police offers or not.

“If I got shot, I would be nothing more than an unarmed fully-clothed man.  If he got shot, he would be an armed police officer with his expose pussy-ass up.

“If you didn’t know, I sometimes talk too much.  He asked me to raise up out of my clothes.  Being at gunpoint, I did.  He was supposed to be running the show, but he was so mesmerized by the dick, he forgot to think.  I didn’t even have it up, it was totally calm down by then.”

“It hangs quite nicely.”

“Like I said before, earlier I thought about riding that ass.  So when the mind goes for it, the dick follows.”

“Young boys like you go from zero to a hundred with no in between; he says tweaking my nipples again.

“There ain’t any other way I know how to do. ” I say, trying to be hard.  “So, I’m looking at him.  He’s eyeing my dick.  I was him what he wanted to do.  His mind is reeling.  He wanted to suck some dick.  His squad car was across the way, though, and he knew them other fuckers from across the way wasn’t about taking the squad car out for a joyride.  He wasn’t a fag either, so…I told him that playing with my dick wasn’t on any fag shit.  That in fact his sword oath was to protect and serve, and that included my dick.”

“He bought that.”  He says twisting my nipples hard.

“Not until I told him that the best way to protect it is with his mouth.  I didn’t think the bitch would buy it but he did.  Was on his knees growing and sucking like he was cleaning off a dinosaur bone.

“Ron was so caught up that he didn’t even know that I disarmed him until I pulled out of his mouth and forced him face down on the ground.  He was struggling for anything he could get his hands on.  Unfortunately, for him, his belt like his pants and underwear were down to his ankles as I creamed at his backdoor.”

“That was hot.”  Arnell says stroking his dick faster between the frictions of my thighs and stroking me off.

“That wasn’t the end.  I flipped him around because in a pinch cum and spit makes for a great lube.”

“You—

“Of course, that was the master plan all along.  Right after I figured out that he was waiting on somebody to take him down.

“I pushed through the slimy white foam atop his hole in.  It was so soft and wet and slick that it was a little bit made that I wasted my first nutt on trying to make him penetrable.

“So, he on the ground kissing dirt, and I’m on top of him just swimming in it, drowning my dick in his ass.  I’m grunting and growling in his ear, telling him that he needs me in him like that.  He agreed, begging to me bring, fuck him faster.  I fucked him faster, pushing harder with each pistol-cylinder stroke.  He’s breathing hard one minute and cussing up a storm the other and riding this carousel back again.  He cries that his butt was sore.  He said it would before the hurt tomorrow because I was putting it down that good.

“I bet you were.”  He says.

He is still stroking me hard. my balls are clenching upward and that and the violent tweak of my sensitive teats.

“His faggot-ass was feeling good tome.  I didn’t know once he felt go, throwing it back, that it was going to feel like heaven.  I was chilling like I was drilling for oil, digging for gold and mining for diamonds,

“I tell him that I’m about ready to burst.  He tells me do what I got to do, as long as I do it deep inside of him.  I held him down a little longer than I thought, with his hold talking much smack along the way.  It was talking so much smack that I thought the neighbors were going to call the police.  I made it submit, thought.  Shutting it up by loading it with a premium gallon plus.”

“Damn.”

I try to be as general with telling this story as I can.  Relieving every detail in my head put me into another realm.  More than I think a major turn-on that has brought me closer to the edge that I thought.

I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder.  He takes his mouth against my neck, his hand against my nipple, and he grips my dick even tighter, knowing my secret as I embrace for the ecstasy that is ready to jut out of my body.

“Ah shit,” I suck my teeth, shuttering as my load jets out over the edge.

I am barely able to enjoy my “coming down” before he leans me mover and starts going hard underneath my groin.  I respect his swagger to let him do this.  Let him allude the people that I am his bitch, and that I am taking it even though it is not true.

I am gripping my dick.  My hands are stained with my cum.  He slams between my thighs like he is in some ass tearing out a new asshole.

His dick feels like fire down there burning tightly pulled up sagging flesh and straggly hairs that is my nutt sac.  And the friction between my clamping thigh it brings out grunts and groans that I never knew were possible from a top.

“Aw, fuck,” he says pulling me up just in time to watch his dick beneath mine shoot clearly over the edge, disappearing below it hits the ground, about halfway across the middle of the street.

He is exhausted.  

I can hear him panting in my ear thanking me.  He promises next time we are going to get a room and he is going to help him to a piece of my ass.  

I am fearful at these daring words.  I am also calm with his slimy deposits running down my thighs.

He holds me tight.

11:43am

We collected ourselves, thanking each other and walking downstairs together to the showers.

11:47am

Afraid to come off desperate by asking him for his number as he’s the one that wants to fuck me.

We jump in two adjoining showers; he asks for my name, and I ask for him, thought I knew it.

I knew how and why he isn't going to pursue me.  He saw the good before he got the name.

Damn, I fucked up.  

Lesson learned.

Had a good time but fucked up royally.

I wouldn’t be out-of-bounds giving him my info.  To do that, though, is to suggest that I would like him to fuck me.

I don’t want that, despite my attraction to him.  I am not ready for that.  And to be ready for him, I would have stretched my hole like slutty pussy to be a fraction of accommodating.

11:52am

I purposely jumped out of the shower first, making sure he sees me as I leave.  We give each other lingering glances, wanting to say a whole lot more.

He ignores my childish youth and takes the lead as the mature one, vowing once again that next time the two of us were going to get a room and fuck me.

“A great top starts off as a good bottom.”  He yammers on my way to the lockers.

12:01pm

I am dressed and in my car.

12:23pm

At home and finding the fastest route to my bed.

3:43pm

Wake up from my nap, thinking about the good time I had.

9:05pm

Horny again.

Regret not getting any numbers.  

Oh, well, there is always next week.